


Total Eclipse

by neveralarch



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ensemble Cast, M/M, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, more or less anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 10:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16428059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: Starscream and trine are fleeing the Vosian army for completely understandable and non-criminal reasons when they run into a storm. Megatron is minding his own business and planning this year's shearing when three foreign flying mechs crash-land on his sheepacron. Things escalate from there.(A pre-war/culture clash AU, because I really wanted a Megastar one and then I wrote this monstrosity.)





	Total Eclipse

**Author's Note:**

> 2018 has been the year of consuming All Transformers for me, so obviously I had to take a stab at this mini-genre. This is generally a G1 cartoon fic, with some liberties taken because it's an AU and I can do what I want. Definitely a big debt to [Knocked Out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10894023/chapters/24213789), which is a super fun fic and I highly recommend.
> 
> Huge thanks to [perictione](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leclairage/pseuds/perictione), who edited this huge thing and gave so many great suggestions!
> 
> This fic contains character injury, non-graphic animal death, non-consensual (but non-sexual) bondage, and robot sex (plug-and-play) that includes some miscommunication. It's all very silly, but please let me know if you need details.

For the first twenty kliks, Starscream thought the storm was Primus-sent. He and his trine disappeared into the clouds, their trail covered by thunder and the stinging acid rain. The winds buffeted their pursuers, and ripped away Starscream's laughter as they climbed higher and higher, into the freedom of the sky.

But after the first twenty kliks, the rain started to get annoying. And about twenty kliks after _that_ , the rain actually managed to eat away part of Starscream’s left aileron. Starscream automatically corrected for the imbalance, but then he was hit by a particularly strong gust, pushing him off course.

 **Thundercracker:** Screamer, I'm losing your signal.

 **Starscream:** It's impossible to fly straight in this fragging storm. We'll just have to meet after it clears.

 **Thundercracker:** That doesn't work if I don't know where we're going. We need to stick together.

It hurt to admit it, but Thundercracker had a point. Starscream rode another burst of wind, trying to orient toward Thundercracker, but the storm was interfering with his navigation systems. He switched to visual scanners and caught a glimpse of blue somewhere above him. Hopefully that was Thundercracker, and not some loyalist lackey who'd managed to track them. 

Starscream tried to climb toward the maybe-Thundercracker, but his left aileron wouldn't respond to commands and his wing sparked ominously when he tried to force it. 

**Thundercracker:** Starscream? Can you still read me?

Starscream dipped his right wing and fired his thrusters, trying to angle himself into even a somewhat upward trajectory. He hit a crosswind instead, and had to pull away sharply to avoid spinning out.

 **Starscream:** Yes, yes. Stop whining at me.

The acid had worn through part of his armor and was dripping into his right thruster. Starscream wondered how long he'd have before he started losing altitude.

 **Thundercracker:** Do you have a rendezvous in mind? Because I thought the whole plan was 'fly north until they stop chasing us.'

Maybe he could glide to safety. Maybe he'd land on something soft.

 **Starscream:** Well? Just fly north. Even you should be able to handle that.

Maybe the rest of his trine would escape. Or at least lead the loyalists away from Starscream's crash.

 **Thundercracker:** Screamer, you glitch, if I die in this storm I'm going to haunt you forever.

 **Starscream:** I said stop whining.

The acid pelted against Starscream's weakening plating. The storm felt like it was getting worse.

 **Skywarp:** Okay nerds, I've got visuals on both of you.

 **Skywarp:** Wanna see if my processor can plot a path through the storm without scrambling our atoms?

 **Thundercracker:** No.

 **Starscream:** No!

Something slammed into Starscream's plating, and he spun into a slipstream air current, pulling him even further away from Thundercracker.

"Whoops!" Skywarp laughed and clung to Starscream's _previously_ undamaged wing. In root mode Skywarp's thrusters were barely able to steer one mech, let alone two, and Starscream was too disoriented to do anything useful. They tumbled through the storm, losing altitude.

"Let go!" screeched Starscream.

"Nah, we gotta get TC," said Skywarp. "I think I've got the hang of this, come on."

"No," said Starscream, repeatedly, with rising volume, but either the wind tore his words away or Skywarp simply ignored him. The next thing Starscream knew he was careening nose-first into Thundercracker's tail.

\---

Megatron looked at the pile of steaming wreckage on the hillside. According to Frenzy, the gruesome mass of metal had fallen out of the sky, crushing a hapless sheepacron. Frenzy had found it very traumatic. 

"Oh, be quiet." Hook plucked gently at a flap, peeling it away from the rest of the heap. "Just be glad you're standing with both feet on the ground, instead of crash-landing with only a sheepacron to catch you."

"There's a mech in that mess?" asked Megatron.

"No," said Hook, "there are three. Long Haul, see if you can pry that away—ah. They are unconscious but functioning, my lord."

"Only until I get my hands on them!" Frenzy waved a fist. "They splatted Fluffatron!"

"Fluffatron," repeated Megatron.

Frenzy froze. "Did I say Fluffatron? I meant Fluffa _cron_. You know, because he was a sheepacron, and he was fluffy, and—"

"Repair them as necessary," Megatron told Hook, "and then bring them to the council tent. I want to know if we can expect any more mystery mechs dropping on top of us."

"Dropping on top of _me_ ," complained Frenzy, as Long Haul picked up the bundle of mechs-cum-shrapnel. "Lord Megatron, I want to claim my rights of grievance!"

Megatron looked down at Frenzy. "Fluffatron," he said.

"You know what," mumbled Frenzy, "I'll just tend the herd."

\---

Starscream woke when they tried to tear his wings off.

"Get off!" he snarled, kicking out with all the force he could muster. Unfortunately that wasn't very much. Instead of ripping through his assailants' armor and crushing their fuel tanks, he merely stubbed his foot against an overlarge mech's lurid green thigh. Rather than wailing in pain, the mech caught Starscream's leg and calmly pinned him on his side while the mech's unseen partner continued mutilating Starscream's wings. 

"Calm down," said Thundercracker wearily. "You're all bent out of shape and they're trying to fix you. I think they're medics."

Starscream muffled a shriek as a piece of his plating was forcibly moved back into place. "What do you mean you _think_ —"

The large mech released Starscream's leg and grabbed Starscream's waist instead, lifting Starscream into a sitting position. Starscream's helm ached with vertigo as he tried to take in his surroundings. He was sitting on a raised slab, feet not quite touching the floor. The large mech was moving to stand behind him, supporting Starscream's back with one hand, and a somewhat smaller (but still much too large) mech with the same ugly green paint and uglier purple highlights was coming around to Starscream's front. 

The smaller mech prodded at Starscream's many dents and gabbled incomprehensibly. Starscream tried to claw at him, but the large mech merely pulled Starscream's arms back, rumbling his engine in a way that would have been soothing if Starscream was a young glitchmouse instead of a veteran war-hero.

Prevented from retaliating, Starscream sneered and ignored his captors instead. They were in some kind of round structure, a basic metal frame covered with a heavy woven tarp. Scrap metal was strewn across the floor, and spindly shelves were packed with glowing bottles of energon and rough tools. Yes, Starscream could see why Thundercracker thought these mechs might be medics—of a sort, anyway. Surely those bottles held primitive healing remedies, and those bits of metal were gathered from the off-lined to graft to wounded frames, and that sharp drill might be used to trepan an injured helm if these people still thought overheating could be treated with violent ventilation—

Starscream's hands flew to his helm, feeling it for new holes. The large bot pushed his arms down again, and his smaller companion scolded Starscream as he tried to pull Starscream’s cockpit back into alignment.

"Don't worry," said Skywarp. "They haven't done anything weird. Just wrenched our wings a bit and patched the leaking bits."

"Comms are out," said Thundercracker. "Not that we have anybody to call."

"We're lucky we all landed in root mode," said Skywarp. "I don't really want to know what it would look like if I tried to transform."

Thundercracker and Skywarp were leaning against each other, sitting on a woven copper mat. Each had his hands bound in front of him. Starscream looked at his own, free hands. Of course, they must have recognized him as the leader. The one who should be treated with respect, who would negotiate with the locals on his trine's behalf. Starscream threw back his shoulders, ignoring the pain in his wings.

The medic ran his hands down Starscream's arms, checking for damage for severe than the obvious dents and scrapes. Then he clicked his tongue at the larger mech, who produced a length of thin wire.

Starscream's shoulders slumped again.

He thought about fighting, but they'd taken his weapons while he was unconscious—if they hadn't been slagged by the crash. He certainly _felt_ slagged. He wasn't entirely sure if he could fly, even if he did manage to escape.

So he held out his wrists and meekly waited while they were bound. Skywarp sniggered.

"Shut up," said Starscream. "I don't see you performing any heroics."

"It's just so weird to see you being sensible," said Skywarp. "Not even any shrieking, or—Hey! Watch the wings!"

The medic said something terse and incomprehensible and continued hauling Skywarp and Thundercracker to their feet. Then all three of them were herded out of the tent and into the open. Starscream had to reset his optics several times to adjust to the bright sunlight. He thought they'd lost an orn since the storm, but his chronometer wasn't working properly. Or his compass. Or his comms, as Thundercracker had already pointed out.

They were standing in a common area, the perimeter formed by several dozen tents of varying size and uniform roundness. There were mechs sitting at campfires, working at looms, wandering in and out of tents—a few glanced at Starscream, but the rest continued with their business as if he didn't even _matter_. Starscream glanced away, eager to show his own disdain, and found his optics caught by an enormous mountain looming above the camp, its top disappearing into mist. He followed the slope of the mountain down to a valley that stretched below the camp. The hills and plateaus between the mountain and the valley were spotted with the distant figures of sheepacron and their keepers.

"Where the frag are we?" said Skywarp.

"North," said Thundercracker.

"North means Stanix or Nyon," said Skywarp. "This is the middle of nowhere."

"We must've been blown pretty far by the storm," said Thundercracker, and then lurched forward as the bigger green mech pushed him forward impatiently.

Skywarp followed along to avoid a shove, but Starscream lingered, looking at the mountain, until the smaller green mech had to drag him away by his bound wrists.

They were half led, half thrown into a larger tent. Starscream caught himself on his hands and knees, palms scraping against the delicately woven gold and titanium rug that served as a floor. He looked up and met glinting red optics set in a rugged, blocky face.

There were four mechs seated on a dais, watching Starscream crawl. He scowled and pushed himself to his feet, only to be shoved down again by the bigger green mech. At least this time Starscream managed to land in a kneeling position, his hands balled on his thighs and his optics glaring at the large gray mech who was obviously the leader.

"Well?" asked Starscream. The mechs didn't react.

That settled it. They were clearly the prisoners of some backwards northern tribe. They didn't understand Vosian, they wore flat gray paint like dead mechs, and they greeted their captives while _gnawing_ on a sheepacron leg. They lived in _tents_ , instead of respectable barracks. Starscream had lived in barracks ever since he'd been constructed, and the familiar rows of shelf-berths were much more practical than the bizarre rugs and mesh-draped cushions the four mechs were reclining on.

The large gray mech looked at Starscream condescendingly. A purple, single-opticked mech looked at Starscream thoughtfully. The black mech having his disgusting lunch looked at Starscream with hostility. And there was also a blue mech with a visor and facemask, who didn't seem to be looking at Starscream at all.

Starscream scowled at all four of them while the gray mech spoke a few ponderous and meaningless words.

The gray mech waited for a moment, then tried again in a different tone of voice. When Starscream didn't react to that either, the gray mech made a gesture and relaxed into his cushion. The blue mech sat forward and tried half a dozen languages, only one of which Starscream recognized. As Nyonian—which he didn't know how to speak. He'd been constructed for infantry, not infiltration. His so-called superiors had never given him any language upgrades beyond the standard military codes.

"I wish I'd transferred to translation," said Thundercracker, echoing Starscream's thoughts. "Then I'd never have trined with you, and then I wouldn't be in this mess in the first place."

The blue mech looked at Thundercracker for a long time, then said something to the gray mech. The gray mech sighed and sat up again.

"Get ready," said Starscream. "I'll take the big one."

"Which big one?" asked Skywarp.

"They're all big," said Thundercracker.

"The big _gray_ one, you—"

The gray mech cleared his vocalizer and pointed to himself. "Megatron."

"No way!" said Skywarp.

"Is that supposed to mean something?" asked Thundercracker. "Who's Megatron?" 

"He's the warlord of the nomads!" said Skywarp. "He rules the northern reaches with a titanium fist! Didn't you see the play at the coliseum?”

“No, and neither did you,” said Starscream. “Now shut up and let me talk to—"

Skywarp made a rude noise. “Did so! I was part of General Signalflare’s honor guard for the _premiere_. Everyone said it had the best battle scene of the decavorn, there were three thousand mechs on the field and fifteen of them died, TC—"

"I said be quiet," said Starscream. "Megatron isn't one mech. There've been reports of Megatrons in the north for vorns and vorns. It probably just means 'chief' or 'leader' or something like that."

The Megatron pointed at himself again. "Megatron."

"We get it," said Starscream. "You're in charge. You don't need to keep harping on it."

The Megatron pointed at them and cocked his head questioningly.

Starscream pulled himself up as much as he could without rising to his feet. "General Starscream."

"General?" yelped Thundercracker. "You didn't even make sergeant!"

"As the highest ranking officer in the Revolutionary Vosian Army," said Starscream, "I'm promoting myself."

"Ooh," Skywarp raised his hand. "Can I be a major?"

"Starscream," repeated the Megatron.

" _General_ Starscream," corrected Starscream. He pointed with his bound hands. "Thundercracker. Skywarp."

"Major Skywarp!"

The Megatron pointed, as if confirming. "General. Thundercracker. Skywarp."

"Close enough," said Starscream.

"Aw, come on," whined Skywarp.

"It doesn't matter, Warp," said Thundercracker. "They don't know what it means anyway."

One good thing about having two completely useless idiots in your trine: their ceaseless prattle gave you time to think. In only half a klik, Starscream had already formed a masterful plan.

"Greetings, Megatron," he said, slowly and clearly. "We are the gods of the mighty storm. Free us or face our wrath."

He didn't get exactly the reaction he wanted. The Megatron just nodded encouragingly, and then turned to the blue mech again.

"They can't understand you either," said Thundercracker. "Which might be for the best, given the kind of nonsense you—"

Starscream carefully leaned over and bashed Thundercracker in the face with his wingtip.

"Free us," he repeated, once Thundercracker had stopped yelling. " _We_ are _storm gods_ —you're right, Thundercracker, this isn't working."

"Thank Primus," said Thundercracker, holding his bleeding nose.

Starscream rolled his shoulders back, striking a powerful and decisive pose. "I'll need my hands free."

\---

Megatron looked bemusedly at his uninvited guests. He'd allowed Hook to cut General free, since the mech clearly wanted it so much. Megatron, for his part, was curious whether General planned to fight all of them, even weaponless and injured. He certainly seemed to regard violence as a tool of first resort, given what he'd already done to Thundercracker.

But General seemed to be focused on performing some sort of dance. Perhaps it was a welcoming ritual in his culture.

General pointed up at the sky. He waved his hands in broad circles, his optics flaring. Then he swept his wings back, wincing as they creaked, and mimed gliding to the ground.

"Kssh, kssh," he said.

"Right," said Megatron. "There was a storm, and you crashed."

General pointed at himself and his companions. He pointed at the sky again. He put his hands together and made a ludicrous grimace. Then he took his hands apart and smiled wide enough to almost split his face.

"Yes," said Megatron, patiently. "Being free is much nicer than being bound."

"Perhaps the simplest interpretation is not the correct one," said Shockwave. "If I may, Megatron?"

Megatron waved a hand. General looked at them expectantly.

"We have never seen flight frames of this size before," said Shockwave. "Before we met them, in fact, I would have theorized that the power of flight is limited to miniature frames such as Laserbeak and Buzzsaw. Given the amount of energon necessary to lift even a small weight, it seems unlikely that any full-sized Cybertronian could be constructed with the necessary power to lift their frame."

"But now you see that it is possible," said Megatron.

"Possible, yes." Shockwave leaned forward. "But are they _Cybertronian_?"

Motormaster laughed. "What else could they be?"

"Alien life forms," said Shockwave. "Visitors from another, more advanced world. Think of it, my lord! This is why the mechs bear only a crude resemblance to our frames; they were designed to walk among us by an otherworldly power which could only catch glimpses of our—"

"Theory far-fetched," said Soundwave. "Visitors' language shares many similarities with our own. Mutual unintelligibility the result of distance, drift over time from common language. Not result of mechs from space."

"They may have been loaded with one of the local languages," said Shockwave. "Local, of course, being a relative term to extraterrestrials. My lord, if you simply allow me to dissect one, I would be able to ascertain their origin for certain."

"No," said Megatron. "If you only want to dissect things, Shockwave, you needn't bother with the absurd preamble."

"I don't think it's _absurd_ —"

Megatron cut Shockwave off with a look. “Hook, what did you learn from the medical exam?”

“They were very badly damaged in the crash, Lord Megatron,” said Hook. “They were heavily armed, but most of their weapon systems were glitching from either the storm or the impact.”

Megatron eyed General, who was waiting patiently for a response. Patiently, except for the click-click-click of his sharp talons tapping against his hips.

“I trust you removed them?”

“Oh, yes,” said Hook. “As a precaution. Other than that, I’m afraid that I didn’t recognize most of what I was looking at. I believe their frames have been surgically altered in the past—I noticed scarring around all three visitors’ helm base.”

“You see?” said Shockwave. “They wear their Cybertronian disguises like poorly-fitting suits.”

General abruptly ran out of patience. He began his little grimace smile dance again, this time gesturing at his companions.

"Yes, yes, they want to be free also," said Megatron. "Long Haul, untie them. They don't seem to be a threat."

General looked extremely pleased, bobbling his head and making high crooning noises.

"You're not getting _any_ of this?" Megatron asked Soundwave.

"Decryption program compiling," said Soundwave. "Time required, unknown."

Megatron watched as the newly-freed Thundercracker caught General by the shoulder and began arguing with him. No, he shouldn’t assume. Perhaps it wasn't arguing. Perhaps this was just how civil conversation sounded in their strange language, where every word seemed to be exclaimed in a high, imperious shriek.

"I'm sure you could spare one for dissection," said Shockwave. "There _are_ three."

"No," said Megatron.

"Let's just kill all of them," said Motormaster.

"No," said Megatron, resisting the urge to sigh.

Motormaster glared at Skywarp, who was sitting docilely while Thundercracker and General fought. "They're probably Autobot spies." 

"Theory equally far-fetched," said Soundwave. "Shockwave established that Autobots do not have flight frames of this size."

"Fine, whatever," said Motormaster. "Let's kill them anyway. Less trouble than waiting for you to finish your program."

"Visitors may have useful information," said Soundwave. "Decepticons always have more to learn."

Shockwave perked up. "Exactly why I believe a dissection might—"

"No," said Megatron, now resisting the urge to throttle two-thirds of his council.

"Decryption program progress aided by full processor scan of one of the visitors," said Soundwave. "Megatron will permit?"

"Fine." Megatron looked between the two arguing fliers, and the third still sitting complacent on the floor. "Take Skywarp. He doesn't look like much trouble."

"My lord," complained Shockwave, "I must protest when Soundwave is permitted to run his experiments, while I—"

"Soundwave's experiments are non-invasive," said Megatron.

Soundwave held up a finger.

"Soundwave leaves the mech alive when he's done," corrected Megatron.

"I can perform a vivisection if you'd prefer a live captive," said Shockwave.

"Killing them would be so much easier," said Motormaster. "Less talking."

"There would be less talking if the two of you _listened_ when I made a decision," snarled Megatron.

Through all of this, Thundercracker and General continued to shriek. Skywarp yawned. Megatron hoped they appreciated what he was doing for them.

\---

Starscream did try to fight when he realized they were being separated. It was exactly as useless as he'd expected. He got in two good kicks to the bigger green mech's shins, and then the medic caught his wing and twisted until Starscream's optics whited out with pain.

"They're going to kill him," said Thundercracker, when they were alone in a new tent, bound hand _and_ foot with wire, and with a guard sitting outside the half-open flaps. "They're going to kill him, and it's your fault."

"He'll be fine," said Starscream, though of course he had no way of knowing. He needed to get on top of this situation. He needed to be in control. He needed to show that ugly gray mech who the _real_ Megatron was.

He needed to show these fools the consequences of defying a storm god.

He couldn't hope to overwhelm them physically, and they didn't understand his threats. He needed something universal, something impressive, something—

"What orn is it?" demanded Starscream.

Thundercracker groaned. "Check your chronometer."

Starscream flicked a wing irritably. "My systems were jumbled by the crash, and those idiots obviously can't recalibrate them. What orn is it?"

"Your _processor_ is jumbled," said Thundercracker, and then yelped when Starscream twisted around and bit him. "Alright, alright, It's the fifty-first of Glar! Now, if we can get back to the important things, like Skywarp's _imminent demise_ —"

Starscream generously released Thundercracker's helm-kibble. "What are our coordinates?"

Thundercracker's mouth twisted with fury.

"I have a foolproof plan to convince the locals of our inherent superiority," said Starscream, reassuringly. "And obtain Skywarp's safe return. Now what are our fragging coordinates?"

Thundercracker's engine turned over, but his optics glazed briefly as he checked his navigation. "Pretty much direct north of Vos, looks like. We got pushed along by the storm, not knocked off course."

Starscream felt his spark fill with glee. "One last question. Do you think you could bite through these wires?"

\---

"You have such a horror of scientific progress," said Shockwave. "You must understand why I find it so difficult to work under these conditions."

Megatron slumped over his desk and put his face in his hands. Shockwave didn't take the hint.

"You must realize that you perpetually take Soundwave's side over mine," he told Megatron.

"Because he's sensible," said Megatron.

"Oh, he's practical," said Shockwave. "An admirable mech. But very selfish when it comes to his cassettes. He refused to let me examine Laserbeak today, even though it's essential to understand the flight-mass problem, and even though he has a _spare_. You must tell Soundwave to stop blocking my work."

"No," said Megatron, which prompted another clipped rant about science. Megatron tuned most of it out. He knew (because Shockwave had told him, many, many times) that what Shockwave truly wanted was to be left in some remote cave with unlimited resources and dedicated assistants. Preferably while Megatron and Soundwave were incapacitated for a suitably long period so Shockwave could do his work without anyone asking him 'why' or 'do you have to' or 'should there be so much energon spurting from that mech.'

Shockwave was useful. When given extremely specific goals and extensive constraints, and made to feel as if he was a respected member of the Decepticon community. That was why Megatron had to sit there, listening to Shockwave until his chief scientist ran out of complaints. 

Megatron deeply appreciated the interruption when someone started shouting outside.

To his credit, Shockwave was curious too—or at least he didn't object when Megatron interrupted him and left the tent. But even outside Megatron couldn't see what was happening. Practically every Decepticon in the camp seemed to be clustered in the commons, stretching to see around each other. Rather than joining the loitering mass, Megatron took direct action and prodded the nearest mech in the shoulder. "What's happening?"

Scrapper half-turned and grinned at him. "Your new pets are performing."

"They're not pets," said Megatron. "I thought I told Motormaster to guard them."

"Yeah, well, he must've passed off the job," said Scrapper. "Because Dead End was the one watching the not-pets tent, and he’s also the one who has a few dents in his helm from when they decided they wanted out."

"Excuse me," said Shockwave to the crowd, "I'd like to see."

There was no immediate response from the crowd. At least, not until Shockwave produced a mysterious instrument and carefully jabbed it into the neck-joint of the mech directly in front of him. The mech yelped, glared, seized, and collapsed. Then a path cleared very quickly.

"Before you ask, I believe Spectro will be fine," said Shockwave. "A mild electric shock, nothing more. Although it would be much easier to be certain if I was allowed to perform extensive testing with live—"

"No," said Megatron, and leaned over to look through the crowd.

General was standing on a table which had once held scraps of drying sheepacron wool —Megatron could see where the wool had been kicked to the ground to clear it. Thundercracker was growling at anyone who got too close, even Scavenger, who was only trying to pick up his wool before it got trampled. General, meanwhile, was declaiming something in his screeching language and pointing ominously at the sky.

"They seem awful worked up about something," said Scrapper.

"Oh, I wonder if any more aliens are going to fall down," said Shockwave. "My lord, perhaps I should get an operating room ready? Just in case?"

\---

"You have insulted your gods," shouted Starscream. "Look at us! Do you not feel our nobility in your struts? Look at our wings! Look at our elegant features!"

"I wish you'd stick to one set of lies," said Thundercracker. "You can't be both a general and a god." 

"It's a new life," said Starscream. "We can be whoever we want."

"Then I want to be trine leader," said Thundercracker. "This is your worst plan since you came up with the _genius_ idea to break into General Signalflare’s mansion."

Starscream mimed a kick at the back of Thundercracker's helm, but stopped himself from actually causing any damage. It was important to present a powerful, united front. With that in mind, he turned his attention back to the gathering crowd. "We will prove our awesome might to you lowly groundlings! We will take away that which you hold most dear!" He pointed one shaking talon at the larger of Cybertron's two suns. 

The crowd glanced behind them, looking curious but unconcerned.

"No, up!" said Starscream. "Up! The sun! In about five kliks, you cretins!"

\---

The crowd was laughing, but there was a tension gathering underneath. Decepticons liked a show, but they also liked to make their own fun—often in physically or emotionally traumatizing ways. If Megatron didn't intervene, one or two mechs were likely to lose interest and decide to start a brawl. Wildrider was already cracking his knuckles and looking around for the best jaw to punch.

Megatron began to stride through the crowd, leaving Shockwave and Scrapper behind.

Surprisingly, General's optics lit as Megatron neared. Thundercracker shuffled warily away, standing behind the table now, and Scavenger took the opportunity to snatch up a few pieces of his abused sheepacron wool. But General didn't try to run or to hide. Instead he waved Megatron forward, still chirping in a high, excited tone. He spread his arms again, and then gestured at the sky.

Darkness fell—not abruptly, but swiftly, and more completely than any cloud. The dominant sun was dimming. A hush fell over the mob.

"Oh," said Megatron. "I forgot there was an eclipse today."

General was still waving his arms, and his screeching reached a new frenzied pitch.

"They happen relatively often," said Megatron. "Something to do with our position near the equator, and the number of celestial bodies in our system. Shockwave's explained it to me before."

General didn't respond to Megatron's soothing tone. Megatron tentatively reached out a hand to coax him from the table. "Don't be frightened," he said. "It's perfectly natural."

General looked at Megatron's hand for a long moment, while Megatron tried to somehow both keep still and prod Scavenger away from the last scrap of wool which was practically under Megatron’s own feet. Then General grinned almost maniacally and took Megatron's hand. He came off the table readily, without fussing, though he contrived to look down his nose at Megatron even though Megatron was a head taller. Thundercracker said something, and General responded excitedly.

"Mhm," said Megatron. "Now, why don't we watch the nice eclipse, and then we can go back to your tent?"

General nodded regally.

"What about my wool?" asked Scavenger, from the ground. “Lord Megatron, I have a grievance—"

"You'll just have to wash it again," said Megatron. "Now be quiet. This is a natural wonder."

Megatron glanced up at the eclipse, dimming his optics so they wouldn't be damaged. He was almost glad General had made such a racket about this one. He'd have hated to miss it while sitting in his tent, listening to Shockwave's petty complaints, and waiting for Soundwave to finish the decryption program.

About fifteen kliks later, Megatron had changed his mind.

General had no interest in returning to his tent after the eclipse was over. And the noise General made when Megatron gave up on kindness and simply threw him over one shoulder was easily louder than anything Megatron had heard in his entire existence.

\---

"Well," said Thundercracker, tied hand and foot and _knee_ this time, "that was productive."

"I don't want to hear your attitude," said Starscream. "I don't see you—"

"You don't want to hear my _attitude_?" Thundercracker actually snapped at him, snapped at his _leader_. "We haven't seen Skywarp for joors! That's the only reason I went along with your absurd plan, and we couldn't find him anywhere!"

"We weren't actually looking," said Starscream. "Maybe he's just in a different tent."

"That's the whole point," said Thundercracker, miserably. "He's all alone, surrounded by hostiles. They're probably torturing him for information right now."

"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed Starscream. "We don't even speak the same language. What would be the point?"

Thundercracker tried very hard to headbutt him. Fortunately, they'd been left lying on their sides this time, so Thundercracker could only wriggle threateningly in Starscream's direction.

"Come on," said Starscream, when Thundercracker finally gave up. "This is working."

"It's not working," said Thundercracker.

"The Megatron listened to us," pointed out Starscream. "The whole camp listened to us."

"What was it you just said?" Thundercracker flopped onto his back. "We don't even speak the same language?"

Starscream huffed. "Skywarp's a grown mech, he can take care of himself. Don't you think he could teleport his way out of trouble if it gets too serious?"

"Only if his systems can handle it," said Thundercracker. "How are _your_ systems feeling, Screamer?"

"Why didn't you just say you wanted to work yourself into a panic?" asked Starscream. "I can see I'm wasting my time trying to—Look at me while I'm talking to you! Thundercracker, I am your commanding officer. _Thundercracker_!"

But Thundercracker had squirmed away. He managed to lay himself on one of the lush rugs, facing the tent wall and radiating frustrated anger. Starscream stuck his tongue out at Thundercracker's dented back and got back to work on getting them out of this mess. Like a good trine leader should.

Eclipses _were_ impressive. The whole camp had stopped to watch, the Megatron quiet at Starscream's side as they stared up at the sky. The problem was only that the other mechs hadn't been surprised. He needed a surprise.

\---

The bell rung outside Megatron's tent, and he called for his visitor to enter without looking up from his book.

Soundwave ducked through the tent flaps. "Megatron studying?"

"My predecessors' notes," said Megatron. "They recorded any contact they had with unfamiliar mechs." He held up the book for Soundwave, one finger lightly tapping a particular illustration. "What do you think? There's a resemblance, but—"

Soundwave shook his head. "Doorwings not the same as wings. Autobot Prowl is Praxian. Visitors are not. Analysis of visitor language complete."

"Already?" Megatron set his book aside. "What did Skywarp tell you?"

"Many things," said Soundwave. "At great length. _Analysis_ complete. Decryption will take three additional orn."

Megatron sighed. "So you haven't learned anything."

Soundwave shrugged. "Skywarp's chattering entertaining. He asked for Thundercracker sixteen times."

"What about General?"

"Negative," said Soundwave. "Word 'Starscream' repeated twenty-seven times. Voice modulation suggests it is profanity."

"See if you can determine the word for eclipse," said Megatron. "The solar eclipse today caused General and Thundercracker some excitement, and I wasn't entirely successful in containing it." He rubbed his hand. General had actually _bitten_ him.

"Should Skywarp be returned to their tent?"

"No," said Megatron. "Keep him separated. Give him something to do. In fact, separate General and Thundercracker as well. If we can't talk to them, I don't want them talking to each other."

"Megatron believes the visitors pose a threat?" asked Soundwave.

Megatron looked at the tiny tooth-shaped dents in the back of his hand and recalled the look in General's eyes as Scrapper had tied him up again. "I think we have a right to be cautious."

\---

Starscream huddled in the empty tent, seething. Thundercracker hadn't even said anything when he was taken away. Which was fine. Starscream didn't need to hear his whining or look at his sullen little face anymore.

Except then Starscream began to wonder if the Megatron was taking his trinemates away for a reason. To tear their wings off for decorations or pull their processors out of their mouths to understand how they worked. Maybe Starscream would be next.

Starscream shuddered and deleted that thought. He only needed to establish dominance over the camp, and then he could have anything he wanted. He could demand Skywarp and Thundercracker's return, and his trinemates would be awed by his demonstration of strength and prestige.

Starscream pushed and kicked at the rugs underneath him until he uncovered the raw ground. Then he pushed and kicked at _that_ until he unearthed a scrap of metal. It wasn't sharp. Just a rough bit of iron, like all of the other bits of iron that combined with filings and dust to comprise the upper layer of Cybertron's surface. But Starscream could pin it underneath his wrists, and rub and rub and rub—

The eclipse had been so perfectly timed. It had felt like destiny, except it hadn't brought the Megatron to his knees like it should have. The Megatron had just humored Starscream for a few kliks before dumping him back into this unbearable tent. He’d shouted gratifyingly when Starscream bit him, but he hadn’t had the grace to be properly injured, his armor too thick for Starscream to breach. And, worst of all, the Megatron had _stolen_ Skywarp and Thundercracker, and left Starscream damaged and _alone_.

The wires around Starscream's wrists slowly abraded away. He wasn't that damaged, actually, not after the medic's attentions and the work of his self-repair. He wouldn't be able to fly for any great distance, but at least one of his thrusters still worked...

The wires strained and a few finally snapped. Starscream stared up at the ceiling, putting all his weight on the scrap of metal beneath him as he strained to break the last few wires binding his wrists. There was a small opening in the center of the tarp above him, and he could see the stars and the light of the moon. The tarp looked like it was woven of nickel and sheepacron wool, and wool would burn, wouldn't it? How interesting. Starscream turned his head, taking in the turbofox furs hanging from the tent-frame and the plush carpets crumpled on the floor. Another wire snapped, and his hands were free. He sat up to untie his legs, talons lingering on his intact thruster.

You didn't _need_ an eclipse to turn the sky black, did you?

\---

Megatron had been recharging for less than ten kliks when he was woken by the screams.

He barreled out of the tent and promptly ran into a wave of fleeing mechs. It wasn't hard to figure out what they were fleeing from—smoke and flames were billowing from a tent close to the commons. Megatron was already running to it before he realized exactly which tent it was.

"What the frag did you do?" he snarled at Motormaster, who was watching the fire with glinting optics.

"I didn't do anything!" said Motormaster.

"You expect me to believe that the tent holding the captive _you_ wanted to kill just went up in flames all on its own?"

Scrapper was directing his gestalt in smothering the flames. At least someone was doing something useful. Motormaster was focused on denying responsibility, Soundwave was probably asleep, and Shockwave was standing around making _notes_ and probably hoping he'd be allowed to have General's body when they retrieved it from the wreck.

"Your pet is the one who set the fragging thing on fire," said Motormaster, unwisely drawing Megatron's attention back to him.

"With what?" asked Megatron. "All his weapons were removed!"

Motormaster pointed, wordlessly, and Megatron looked up.

General was hovering above the burning tent, his face cast into a demonic grimace by the flickering light. Short bursts of flame spewed from the heels of one foot, keeping him shakily aloft.

Megatron cursed himself silently. _Thrusters_. Of course, Lazerbeak and Buzzsaw had thrusters. They could hardly light a candle with them, but hadn't Shockwave said that a larger mech would need more power?

"Give me the order," said Motormaster, "and I'll shoot him out of the sky."

Megatron cuffed him in the back of the head.

"He's dangerous!"

"I trusted you to guard General. You bear full responsibility for his actions."

"You can't blame me for this—"

"Don't worry, I'm relieving you of this particular duty," said Megatron. "It's obviously too much for you."

Motormaster sputtered, and Megatron walked toward the flames. The tent was almost completely gone, a mess of molten wire, wool, and fur.

"Come down from there," called Megatron.

General looked down his nose at Megatron once again—this time much more successfully, given his newfound height. But Megatron thought he could see something, even in the flickering, untrustworthy light. A hint of pain crawling behind General's stern mask. A tremble in the angle of wings. Hook had thought it would take the visitors weeks to recover from the crash, and Hook had also reluctantly admitted that he didn't know much about the visitors' systems. It looked like it was difficult to hover on only one thruster.

Megatron held out his arms, in the dim hope that General would relent and fly down into them.

No such luck. General actually kicked up his thrusters, one sputtering and the other burning steady, and flew a few meters higher. He pointed at Megatron and then at the ground, as if he expected Megatron to kneel for him.

Megatron snorted. "Shockwave?" 

Shockwave looked over from where he'd been placidly observing the flames.

"Can you shoot out his thrusters without causing extensive damage?"

"Define extensive," said Shockwave.

"I'm looking for something non-permanent yet disabling," said Megatron.

"It would be easier to guarantee such an effect if I'd been allowed to—"

"Yes, I know," said Megatron. "Do your best."

Shockwave made a few adjustments to his arm cannon, then looked to Megatron again. Megatron gave a short nod, and General _screamed_ when Shockwave's blast hit his working thruster. He toppled out of the air, arms waving uselessly and wings failing to catch even the slightest updraft.

The only good thing about the whole situation was that he landed right on top of Motormaster.

\---

One step forward, one giant swoop back.

Starscream had amply demonstrated his displeasure at the separation of his trine and his continued imprisonment. He'd shown that he wasn't a force to be trifled with.

The Megatron had responded by destroying Starscream's thrusters and putting Starscream in chains. It galled Starscream to admit it, but he was pretty sure the Megatron had won this round.

It galled Starscream even more to have to look at the Megatron's smug, chiseled face. It was unfortunately unavoidable, since he'd been chained to the central pole of the Megatron's personal tent and the Megatron refused to leave. 

First the Megatron had carefully removed every rug and fur in a wide circle around the tent pole, leaving Starscream sitting on the barren, dirty ground. Starscream conceded the practicality of the gesture, even though he'd probably never fly again and the ground was fragging cold. Then the Megatron pretended to recharge until dawn, as if Starscream couldn't tell the difference between a sleeping mech and an awake one. When he finally 'woke,' he puttered around the tent for approximately an eternity before finally remembering that Starscream was at his mercy and deigning to pour a small cup of energon for his captive. 

The energon tasted bitter with copper and silicate, but Starscream drank it anyway. He'd been dismissing low-fuel warnings ever since the fire. The energon sloshed uncomfortably in his empty tank, and Starscream off-lined his optics against a wave of dizziness.

The Megatron growled something.

"Leave me alone," mumbled Starscream, before he remembered that he was supposed to be _commanding_ and _assertive_. He on-lined his optics to glare at the Megatron. "Bring me more energon!"

The Megatron stared at him blankly.

"Energon!" Starscream waved the little cup, until the Megatron took it from him and turned away to refill it. Once the Megatron's back was turned, Starscream tried to uncurl a little, cringing as his thrusters slid against the surprisingly slick ground.

Oh. That explained it. There was slow bleed in Starscream's left heel—he hadn't noticed it amongst the smoldering flares of pain. And, of course, the Megatron hadn't even checked to see if Starscream was _dying_.

"General?" The Megatron was looking at him again. "Energon?"

"Yes, yes, give it to me." Starscream reached for the cup with one hand while prodding at his thrusters with the other. "If I die here I'll haunt your tent until _you_ die and sheepacron gnaw on your struts. Do sheepacron eat mechs, do you think?" Starscream took a gulp of the energon. "I'd stop talking, but I don't want to purge."

The Megatron wrapped his thick hand over Starscream's thruster, putting pressure against the wound. It hurt like the pit, but Starscream's fans slowed a little and the black pixels started to recede from his vision. He let himself lean forward, propping himself against the Megatron's chest to take more of his weight off his thrusters. The Megatron curled his free arm around Starscream's waist, easily supporting him, and called to someone outside the tent.

"I'm not grateful." Starscream's voice was muffled by the Megatron's plating, but he didn't feel like turning his head away. "This is your fault."

The Megatron rubbed his thumb against the edge of Starscream's pelvic armor and said something that was probably meant to be soothing. Starscream condescendingly allowed it to work. 

\---

"This looks cozy," said Hook.

"Shut up," said Megatron. "I thought you said he was stable."

"I said he was probably fine and to call me if he started screeching." Hook glanced at the smears of energon on the floor and started unpacking his tools. "You may recall that Mixmaster was actually on fire at the time. He wants to claim a grievance, by the way."

"It's Mixmaster’s own fault for getting so close without properly cleaning his apparently flammable concoctions from his plating." Megatron reluctantly peeled his hand away from General's thruster, allowing Hook to clean the injury. "And General didn't say anything."

“Really?” Hook brushed a solvent-damp cloth over the edge of General’s thruster and winced at the ensuing screech. “Yes, I see. He’s very stoic.”

Megatron didn’t appreciate Hook’s sarcasm, but he couldn’t spare the attention to tell him so. General was shuddering and yelping in Megatron's arms as Hook thoroughly washed his thruster. One of General’s wings bashed against Megatron's helm, and Megatron tightened his grip, pressing General face-first into his chest. "Hold still, you little arsonist. We're not trying to torture you."

"He must have damaged himself during the crash," muttered Hook. "Shockwave assured me he used an EMP, nothing that would shatter a—Ah."

"Ah?" Megatron tried to see around General's squirming frame.

Hook held up a shard of black metal. "Motormaster's revenge. There's at least three armor splinters wedged in here. And Motormaster didn't even tell me he’d been damaged—I'm hurt."

"Just fix it," said Megatron. General's chains rattled as he tried to move again, but Megatron stroked his back until General finally relaxed. "I don't have all day."

"Don't you?" Hook pulled a pair of tweezers from his kit. "Brace yourself."

"Brace myself for wh—"

General yowled and headbutted Megatron in the chin as Hook probed General’s heel. Megatron clamped his jaw against the pain and braced.

\---

Fine, Starscream's thruster was patched. It still ached. It still didn't _work_. The Megatron had given Starscream a sardonic look when Starscream had tried to point this out. Starscream was certain the Megatron had understood what he meant, despite the language barrier. The Megatron just didn't care.

Starscream was suffering from a pattern of mediocre treatment. The medic had washed the energon from the ground with solvent, but that just meant the ground was both cold _and_ wet. Starscream was still chained. And the Megatron was ignoring him, fussing with paperwork at his desk.

What kind of self-respecting legendary warlord did paperwork? Or had a desk? Things would be different when Starscream was in command.

"You could yell at me," Starscream told the Megatron. "At least that would be interesting."

But the Megatron wasn't interested in berating Starscream for destroying the tent, nor did he make any attempt to question him. The Megatron did speak a few times, but only quietly, as if to himself. Meanwhile Starscream leaned against the tent pole and hoped his weight would break it.

Starscream counted the blue stripes in the fine rug on the Megatron's berth. He simulated hydrogen fusion, calculating it as closely as his processor could manage. He gnawed on his talons until he started to scrape away the paint, and then forced himself to tuck his hands under his thighs instead. With his luck, the locals wouldn't have any good blue paint, only ugly gray and purple.

As the orn grew later and the Megatron showed no signs of relenting, Starscream realized this was his future. He was going to be chained to a pole for the rest of his existence, until the Megatron grew tired of admiring Starscream’s delicate frame and decided to slit his throat to save the energon it took to keep him alive.

Starscream shivered as a cool evening breeze drifted through the half-open tent flaps. Well, if this place was to be his tomb, he should be comfortable while he awaited execution.

"Hey, afthead," said Starscream. "Megatron!"

The Megatron looked up, his grease-pencil poised over the thin scrap of metal he was writing on.

Starscream curled around his cuffed wrists and shivered exaggeratedly.

The Megatron shrugged and barked an order. The guard outside closed the tent flap.

"That's not good enough," said Starscream. "I'm still cold."

The Megatron looked at him impassively.

Starscream hugged his knees to his cockpit and chattered his teeth.

The Megatron didn't react.

"I'm going to die of exposure," said Starscream, in between chatters. "My spark's going to burn out, trying to keep my frame warm."

The Megatron went back to writing. Starscream had to make do with curling up again—not for the dramatic image, this time, but to conserve heat.

It was alright for the Megatron. His feet were cushioned by thick carpets, and his chair was hung with furs. The ground was cold, Primus damn it, and the cuffs around his wrists and the chain resting against his shoulder sucked away his engine heat. Starscream tried to recharge, but his wings shivered lightly and every movement rattled the chain, jerking him awake whenever he began to doze.

The Megatron pushed his chair back.

Starscream focused on his cuffed hands, unwilling to grace the Megatron with even a glare. At least until the Megatron dared to _nudge_ Starscream with his _foot_. Starscream scowled and tried to kick back.

The Megatron said something that sounded amused.

"Frag off," said Starscream, but he looked up when the Megatron nudged him again.

The Megatron was holding the blue-striped rug from his berth. Starscream held out his hands for it, but the Megatron pulled it out of his reach.

"Did you bring it just to tease me?" demanded Starscream.

The Megatron pointed at Starscream's thrusters, then pointed at the rug. Then he made a menacing fist.

"I get it, I get it. They don't work anyway!" Starscream kicked out a thruster and was gratified when the Megatron took a half step back. "Give me the rug, you monster."

Megatron looked at the thruster, with its scraped plating and its patches. Then he oh-so-generously dropped the rug on Starscream's head.

Starscream squawked and struck out again, but the Megatron wisely retreated, leaving Starscream to struggle. It took ages to wrap the rug around his wings, but it was more than large enough. Eventually Starscream managed to roll his entire frame into the rug, a cushion against the ground and a shelter against the chill air.

It was soft. They hadn't had blankets in the barracks. He’d seen some, when they were in General Signalflare’s mansion, before the guards had caught up with them. General Signalflare had a gigantic berth, big enough for an entire trine, with all the pillows and blankets a mech could dream of. That was the difference between manufactured soldiers and the mechs that were forged to lead them. Leaders deserved comfort. Soldiers had to be strong enough to do without, or be left out on the battlefield to rust.

Starscream smiled into his rug. He was a leader now, wasn’t he? He’d earned a little softness.

\---

General certainly wasn't pleased with his latest confinement, but he didn't seem inclined to set anything else on fire. Perhaps Shockwave had successfully disabled him, or perhaps General had only set the fire to get Megatron's attention. Megatron supposed that if _he_ were alone in a strange camp, he'd want to speak to the leader as well.

Two more orn until Soundwave could finish the decryption program. Then they would actually be able to speak.

Megatron wondered what they'd do with General in the meantime. Keeping him tied up and under Megatron's supervision was a waste of Megatron's time, not to mention a waste of a potential resource. The other visitors were already making themselves useful around camp. Skywarp had caught five turbofoxes during the most recent hunt, and Thundercracker seemed to be happy enough minding the sheepacron. General, meanwhile, was primarily occupied with bleeding to death, glaring at Megatron, or transparently pretending to recharge. Megatron had been forced to spend an entire orn on paperwork. 

Soundwave was going to be thrilled. Megatron had unearthed dozens of Soundwave’s memos from the depths of the piles of paperwork on his desk. Most dated cyber-weeks, even meta-cycles back. It was ruining Megatron's system. Normally he waited until Soundwave deemed a matter too urgent to languish on Megatron's desk and actually tried to speak to Megatron about it. 

General shifted in his cocoon, and Megatron caught a flash of red optics before General off-lined them again. Megatron wondered if he needed another blanket.

"Treating him like a pet," he muttered, and forced his attention back to his work. Apparently sheepacron births were down, and turbofox attacks were up. Well, the successful hunt should help with the latter problem. General was watching him again. He was probably just bored out of his processor, and trying to keep his mind off his pain. It wasn't Megatron's problem, anyway.

Megatron reached for the next memo, and found the hard cover of a book instead. He looked at it, considering.

Surely there was some way General could be made to be useful.

\---

The Megatron was prodding at Starscream with his foot again. Starscream curled into his rug and tried to keep up the pretense of recharge, but that battle had been lost with his first startled yelp when the Megatron had kicked at him. Starscream finally on-lined his optics and glared instead.

The Megatron offered Starscream a book.

"You have _books_?" said Starscream. "What are you, a librarian?"

The Megatron pushed the book at him again, and Starscream reluctantly extricated his hands from the rug to take it. He flicked through a few pages, but it was predictably incomprehensible. Technically he could read Vosian, at least, but he hadn't had many opportunities to try outside of military bulletins or the posted lists of traitor's designations. One of the Lieutenant Commanders had owned a few precious novels, borrowed from one of the great civilian libraries and scandalously never returned. Starscream had seen them once, when he was riffling through her quarters looking for valuables.

The Megatron pulled a cushion over and sat down next to Starscream. He leaned over, grunted something, and took the book back.

"I don't know what you expected," said Starscream. "You're just wasting—"

The Megatron angled the book so Starscream could see it. Oh. There were pictures. The Megatron was trying to distract him with some kind of sparkling chapter book.

The illustration the Megatron was currently trying to draw his attention to was small and carefully detailed. Starscream didn't want to sit up and lose the comfortable warmth of his rug, but he did shuffle himself closer, leaning against the Megatron's thigh and squinting at the page. 

It was a mech. A mech with ugly rectangular doorwings. The Megatron tapped the illustration and then pointed at Starscream, cocking his head inquiringly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Starscream told him. 

The Megatron tapped the picture again and said something slowly and distinctly. Then he pointed at Starscream and said it again.

" _No_." Starscream pointed at the picture. "Hideous." He pointed at himself. "Perfect."

The Megatron nodded, and slowly repeated after Starscream. "Hideous. Perfect."

Starscream smiled encouragingly.

The Megatron pointed at himself. "Decepticon."

"Grotesque," suggested Starscream.

The Megatron shook his head emphatically. "Decepticon."

"Annoying," said Starscream.

"De-cep-ti-con," said the Megatron.

"Fine, Decepticon!" Starscream looked for something the Megatron would be less stubborn about. He pointed at the tent. "Hovel."

"Hovel," repeated the Megatron.

Starscream pointed at one of the finely-woven rugs. "Trash."

"Trash," repeated the Megatron. "Grotesque. Perfect. Hovel. Trash."

"Such a _clever_ mech," cooed Starscream.

The Megatron gave him a wry smile, and then looked up as the guard called something through the tent flap. There was a conversation, maybe even an argument. The Megatron set his jaw and darted a glance between the closed tent flap and where Starscream was lying, perfectly docile and unthreatening.

"Do they want you?" asked Starscream sweetly. "You can go. I'll stay right here like a good prisoner."

The Megatron frowned at him.

Starscream took the book from the Megatron's hands and scooted a few inches away. He settled on his side, making a show of paging through the old book as his chains rattled with the movement.

The Megatron said something else to the guard, and then bent to look Starscream in the optics. At least this time he put his hand on Starscream's shoulder instead of shoving at Starscream with his foot.

"Megatron," said the Megatron, and then pointed at the tent flap as he said something else. "General," he said, followed by more babble as he pressed Starscream lightly into the dirt.

"Yes, yes, you're going, I should stay here, I get it." Starscream yawned pointedly. "Have fun."

The Megatron gave him one last lingering look. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him, because he stood and went out. 

Starscream gave him a full five kliks before breaking a strand of wire out of the soft blue-striped rug and setting to work on picking his cuffs.

\---

Megatron looked out over the ridge and down into the plains. Yes, those were certainly Autobot campfires. On Decepticon territory, no less.

"I told you they were Autobot spies," said Motormaster. "An advance guard, sent to find out our weaknesses."

"Unlikely," said Soundwave. "Autobots encroach on this territory every stellar cycle. River location optimal, grazing material excellent."

"And we send them back every stellar cycle!" said Motormaster. "Maybe this time they decided to get smart about it."

"Visitors' frame type unfamiliar. Not Autobot. Probability of spies low."

Motormaster snorted. "What about Prowl?"

"Doorwings are not wings," said Soundwave testily. "Prowl cannot fly."

"Whatever." Motormaster turned to Megatron. "You want us to go down there and slag them?"

"Organize the warriors," said Megatron. "We'll strike between first and second dawn."

Motormaster groaned. "Why not now? What's wrong with striking at dusk?"

"We need to prepare. Do you think a disorganized mob could defeat Optimus Prime and the best of his Autobots?" asked Megatron, and then glared at Motormaster when he seemed ready to argue the point. "Act like the commander you are. Take the time to make a plan and execute it with rested and ready warriors."

Motormaster grumbled something, mercifully under his breath, and left before Megatron could decide he had to do something about it.

"Motormaster young," said Soundwave, when Motormaster was safely out of range.

"I know, but when _I_ was his age—" Megatron cut himself off. "It doesn't matter. I can't do everything at once. But we don't have time for adolescent arrogance with the Autobots perpetually at our doorstep."

Soundwave hummed. "General has recovered?"

"More or less," said Megatron. "He was sulking for a while, but I managed to learn a few words of his language. He recognized the Praxians, by the way, but he called them by a different designation. _Hideous_. His people seem to be called _Perfect_."

Soundwave's visor flashed. "Information added to the decryption program."

"Two more orn?"

"Potentially less," said Soundwave. "Depending on Autobot disruptions."

"Then let's hope they're minimal." Megatron looked down again at the valley and wondered if the Autobots could see him through the rising smoke. "Let's rest up. I think tomorrow will be a long day."

\---

There was still a guard outside the front of the tent, but with great effort Starscream pulled part of the heavy canvas away from the tent frame and squeezed himself through a convenient gap in the tent frame. Technically he'd created by the gap by breaking a few thin struts, but they didn't seem to be load-bearing and the guard hadn't noticed. The camp was quiet, and Starscream stood under the open sky and grinned a grin of triumph.

Then Starscream's thrusters spasmed with pain, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making a noise. The pain didn't exactly pass, but it became manageable. Starscream rolled his neck, forcing himself to relax, then set out to creep—hobble —through the long shadows cast by the setting suns. 

Thundercracker and Skywarp would be in some kind of prison tent. Or in the medic's tent, drained and damaged from torture. Or tied to a stake in the commons, left to be taunted by passing Decepticons.

Or, apparently, leading a group of round, fluffy sheepacron up a hill. That's what Thundercracker was doing, anyway.

Starscream would have run— _hobbled_ —to Thundercracker, but he spotted a small red Decepticon following the sheepacron. A guard, then. Starscream waited until the red mech looked away, then waved to catch Thundercracker's attention. Thundercracker squinted at the movement, then visibly startled before waving back.

Thundercracker was too clever to simply walk over to Starscream's hiding place. At first he hung back, as if he were helping herd the straggling sheepacron along. Then he hung back even more, until the red bot had passed him. The red bot turned and growled something, but Thundercracker waved him on. Finally, Starscream deemed it safe to slip in among the last edges of the herd. Fortunately the beasts didn't turn on him, seemingly focused on bumping into each other and maintaining a vaguely coherent mass trajectory. 

"Where have you been?" snapped Starscream, quietly but forcefully. "I thought they were ripping your wings off."

"Nah," said Thundercracker. "I think you were right about these people. They just put me to work. It was kind of nice, actually. Out in the fresh air. Sun on my plating. No drill sergeants yelling at me. What have you been doing?"

"Nothing," said Starscream. "Looking for you."

"I saw a lot of smoke last night," said Thundercracker. "And people were screaming. You know what that was about?"

"It doesn't matter," said Starscream. "I wanted them to take us seriously."

Thundercracker flicked his wings back, but at least he didn't say anything out loud. Only: "Frenzy says Soundwave's working on a translation program. Just a couple orn, and we'll be able to talk to these people."

"Who's Frenzy?" asked Starscream. "What's Soundwave? What are you talking about?"

"Frenzy's the red minibot." Thundercracker pointed to Frenzy's oblivious back. "And Soundwave was the blue mech that hangs out with Megatron."

"The Megatron, _the_ Megatron," said Starscream. "He's not a person."

"He's obviously a person."

"Not that kind of person! How did you find all this out?"

"We spent a lot of time sitting out in the valley," said Thundercracker. "I might not be able to understand Frenzy, but he can still tell me stuff."

" _I_ learned something," said Starscream archly. "They call themselves Decepticons."

"Oh yeah," said Thundercracker. "That's the first thing Frenzy taught me."

Starscream scowled at him.

"Look, you're loose," said Thundercracker. "Why don't you go look for Skywarp? They treated you and me okay, but I haven't seen Warp since they took him."

"He's probably dead," said Starscream, and then had to spend five valuable kliks apologizing before Thundercracker would stop twisting his wing.

\---

Megatron looked at his empty, though fortunately still largely intact tent. The hole in the back was unsightly, but certainly repairable. He had less faith in whether Scavenger would be repairable when Megatron was through with him.

"I can't understand it," said Scavenger. "I mean, he was chained up, right?"

Megatron looked at the chains, still attached to the tent pole. The cuffs were open, with scratches around the lock that suggested it had been done with effort and not with a key.

"And he definitely didn't walk past me," said Scavenger. "I was paying attention one hundred percent of the time, never got distracted by anything."

Megatron looked at the back of the tent, with its broken struts and pulled-away canvas. 

"Maybe he's magic," suggested Scavenger. "I mean, he did make the sun disappear."

"Stop talking," said Megatron.

"Sorry."

"I said _stop_." Megatron put his hand on Scavenger's shoulder. "Do you know why I asked you to guard my tent while I was gone?"

Scavenger almost, almost opened his mouth and gave Megatron an excuse to rip his tongue out. But at the last moment some scrap of intelligence blew through his audials, and he shook his head instead.

"It's because I foolishly thought you could be trusted to keep track of one pitiful injured mech!"

Scavenger rocked backwards as Megatron shoved him away. "Get your gestalt," Megatron ordered. "I want everyone looking for General, and I want him found."

\---

Even through the disappointment of finding Thundercracker alive and well, Starscream persevered. Surely Skywarp was suffering brutal tortures at the hands of their captors, and would deeply appreciate Starscream's heroic rescue.

Starscream glowered at Skywarp, who was sitting at a campfire. Drinking and laughing with a group of Decepticons. There was a dead turbofox on the ground, and Skywarp was watching one of the brutes skin it, looking fascinated and not disgusted at all.

Finally Starscream grew bored of his own resentment and threw a pebble at Skywarp's helm.

Skywarp didn't react. Starscream looked for a bigger rock.

"Ow! Hey, what the frag?" Skywarp's optics lit on Starscream's shadowed form. "Starscream!"

"Shut _up_ ," hissed Starscream.

"Guys, sorry, I just gotta—" Skywarp made his excuses to the uncomprehending Decepticons and stumbled away from the campfire. At first Starscream thought it was good acting, but as Skywarp drew closer Starscream could see the haziness of Skywarp's optics and smell the highgrade on his breath. Especially when Skywarp wrapped his arms around Starscream's neck and yanked him into a throttling hug.

"This place is the _best_ ," said Skywarp. "We should stay here _forever_."

"What have you been drinking?" asked Starscream. "Are turbofoxes poisonous?"

"Oh man, I hope not! We had turbofox energon for dinner!" Skywarp clutched Starscream a little tighter.

Starscream tried and failed to shove Skywarp away. "Why are you like this?"

"I dunno, I started feeling a little funny after the aperitif," said Skywarp. "It's so cool, though, they ferment it in these sacks, so it's, like, triple distilled? Here, you can have some of mine, it's so smooth."

Starscream pushed the uncomfortably fleshy _sack_ of energon away. "One of us has to stay sober. And stop clutching at me, I'm trying to rescue you."

"No!" Skywarp was still too loud. Starscream put his hand over Skywarp's mouth and hoped that Skywarp's friends were too drunk to notice the racket.

"I love it here," said Skywarp, muffled but unfortunately not muffled enough. "Breakdown and the boys took me hunting, and they were so impressed when I just ported over there and grabbed that turbofox with my bare hands. It's nothing like the slag they used to make us do in maneuvers, Starscream, it's _real_ , and _viscous_ , or, uh, something that sounds kind of like viscous, I'm not—"

"You teleported?" Starscream would've slapped Skywarp if he wasn't so busy trying to keep him quiet and upright. "Why didn't you just escape?"

"I was having fun!"

"We were worried about you!"

"I didn't know where you were!" Skywarp looked contrite for an astrosecond, before he lost interest. "But I knew where those fragging turbofoxes were!"

"You're out of the trine," decided Starscream.

"Noooo," wailed Skywarp. "Come on Starscream, they're working on a translation program—"

"Why does everyone know about this but me?" Starscream finally let go of Skywarp's mouth. "First Thundercracker, now you—"

"TC! How's TC?"

Starscream slapped his hand back over Skywarp's big mouth. "He's _fine_. I'm the one who's been kept tied up like an mechanimal, not knowing if you were alive or dead, while the Megatron held me in his implacable grasp—"

Skywarp made a very strange noise.

"Something to say?" asked Starscream, coldly.

"Which bits did he hold in his grasp?" Skywarp waggled his wings in an utterly unnecessary way. 

Starscream shoved him aside in disgust. "Have fun with your new friends. I'll just go live in the wilderness and eat turbofoxes raw."

"Don't be silly," said Skywarp. " _You_ couldn't catch a turbofox."

Starscream, too angry for words, turned to stalk away and slammed right into the last mech he wanted to see.

"Oh, hey!" said Skywarp. "Listen, Megatron, my man, this place is the best!"

\---

Megatron scolded Motormaster's gestalt for losing track of Skywarp and allowing him to gossip with General. He scolded Scrapper's gestalt, both for Scavenger's abysmal guarding and for their failure to locate General until Megatron had spotted him. He even scolded Soundwave, because apparently Frenzy had seen Thundercracker talking to General earlier in the evening and hadn't bothered to report it.

The shouting and the anger allowed Megatron to briefly avoid the shameful truth that the blame for General's escape lay squarely with himself. He was the one who had left General alone, lulled into complacency by General's brief show of compliance. It was his responsibility to ensure that General didn't escape again.

They didn't know exactly how General had escaped the cuffs, so cuffs alone would not answer. Megatron pondered the problem while holding General in a headlock, his wrists held tight in the small of his back.

"Traditional restraints insufficient," said Soundwave.

"Yes, well-spotted," said Megatron. "I can't hold him like this all night."

"Alternative restraints available," said Soundwave.

Megatron gawped. " _Your_ restraints?"

"If desired. Restraints not currently occupied. Restraints clean."

"Your restraints are inappropriate," said Megatron. "And this isn't their intended use."

"Restraints effective," said Soundwave. "Restraints meant to... restrain."

Megatron was still ready to refuse, but then General managed to get the tip of his foot under the edge of Megatron's shin and _twist_ —

The ensuing scuffle grew to involve not only Megatron and Soundwave, but also Scrapper and half his gestalt, Ravage, and even Shockwave, who appeared to still hope that he could dissect one of his precious 'aliens' if he were merely in the right place at the right time. In the end, Megatron was leaking from several small wounds, Hook had to reattach the hinge of Soundwave's cassette deck, and Shockwave was sulking after Megatron had said something 'truly thoughtless' about scientific progress.

On the other hand, General was as secure as they could possibly make him.

General's hands and feet were contained in thick mesh gloves and boots, soft to the touch but resisting any attempts to claw them apart. Soundwave had cleverly looped ropes around General's limbs, abdomen, and wings such that General couldn't stand, but had to curl forward over his cockpit to keep pressure off the rope around his throat.

“That’s really cool, Soundwave,” said Scavenger. “You must have practiced those knots a lot, you did them so fast.”

“Affirmative,” said Soundwave.

“You think he’ll be able to get out of this too?” asked Scavenger.

“Negative.” Soundwave radiated confidence. “No other mech has escaped.”

“Yeah, but usually your partners aren’t actually trying to escape.” Scrapper tipped Soundwave a wink, then turned his attention to Megatron. “You’re going to keep a close optic on General, right, boss?”

Megatron met General’s furious scowl with one of his own. “Believe me, he’s not getting away again.”

“Yeah, I believe you,” said Scrapper. “Bet you’ll watch him all night long. Just remember we have a battle tomorrow, boss.”

Megatron turned his scowl on Scrapper, but rebutting Scrapper’s insinuations would require making them explicit. It should be clear enough that Megatron regretted the necessity of tying General in this way. He wasn’t _titillated_ by it. 

Well. Megatron had to admit that he liked the look of the thin bit gag in General's mouth, but that was absolutely necessary. General had managed to bite through an energon line in Megatron's inner elbow this time, and Megatron wasn't inclined to give General another shot at it. At least General could still vocalize, even if he couldn't bite down.

"How much longer on the translation program?" asked Megatron.

"Translation program highest priority," said Soundwave. "Perhaps tomorrow."

General tried to thrash but only succeeded in flipping himself onto his back, where his wings prevented him from rolling any further. He glared at Megatron as Hook finished with Soundwave's deck and came to fuss at the dents General had left in Megatron's plating.

"Leave it," said Megatron. "There will be dents aplenty tomorrow."

Soundwave looked down at General, who was still trying to move but succeeding only in spinning in a slow, agonized circle.

"General will be watched by Rumble and Frenzy."

"No, let them rest," said Megatron. "I'll—"

"Perhaps," Shockwave perked up, " _I_ could—"

"No," said Megatron. "I'll take him."

Shockwave did his bland equivalent of a pout again, and Scrapper chuckled and said something to Hook, but Megatron was taking responsibility. He was _not_ going to shy away from it merely because his people were making fun of him.

Megatron lifted General in his arms and carried him through the camp and into his personal tent. General shrieked and yowled, and Megatron thought about dumping him on the floor where Megatron had left him in the first place. But he'd rather keep a firm grip on General, even in recharge. He settled General on the berth instead.

General wasn’t happy about that. His fans whirred audibly, and he twisted awkwardly in the ropes, unable to do anything more violent.

“It’s this or a cage,” said Megatron. “And I don’t have time to build you a cage.”

General managed to maneuver himself to the edge of the berth, but stopped there, as if he didn’t want to fall to the floor after all. A sensible mech. Megatron climbed into the now wide-open space left in the berth, and then had to yank General back because this time General seemed perfectly willing to dive off the edge. After much haphazard struggle, they settled into Megatron's preferred position whenever he shared his berth. Each on their sides, Megatron facing the tent flap, and General's back tucked securely into Megatron's chest. Megatron pulled a rug over their frames and waited while General's fans slowly spun down to a more reasonable speed.

"We'll have to get up in a few joors," said Megatron. "I've wasted the whole night on you."

General said something that sounded both angry and upset. Megatron sighed and petted General's flank, feeling his knuckles brush over the ropes.

"Just for tonight." Megatron tried to make his voice sound soothing even if General couldn't understand the words. "Just one more night, and then we can talk. You'll be able to swear at me as much as you like. 

General sounded confused this time. Megatron off-lined his optics and let his idling engine fall to a deeper, calming rhythm.

"Hush," Megatron murmured. "Tomorrow."

\---

Starscream spent the first joor trying to escape. He didn't think the Megatron even noticed. His snoring was certainly loud enough to cover the way Starscream's plating clinked as he twisted and turned. It didn't matter. Even the Megatron's obliviousness wasn't enough to help Starscream. Every time he inched away from the Megatron, the other mech rolled over to take up the empty space. Eventually the Megatron was lying practically on top of Starscream, which Starscream was grateful for because the Megatron’s weight was the only thing keeping him on the berth.

Starscream had considered rolling off onto the floor anyway. But then he'd just be stuck on the uncomfortable ground instead of trapped in a warm berth. Soundwave had really known what he was doing with these ropes.

There was something seductively relaxing about being caught in this way. Something better than being tied with wire, or those awful cuffs. Curled forward like this, he could hardly feel the pressure of the bonds that were keeping him there. And with his hands in mesh Starscream couldn't even chew on his talons, a nasty habit that often ended in scraped paint and stained teeth. He couldn’t chew _anything_ —the bit of metal in his mouth ensured that. But the edges of the gag were mesh again, protecting the corners of his mouth. The Megatron's engine dumped a perfect amount of heat into their little rug-covered berth, and he was fit comfortably between Starscream's wings so that one wing was cushioned by the Megatron's arm and the other rested on the Megatron’s other shoulder.

They hadn't been allowed to sleep two or three to a berth in the barracks. It was what Starscream had always loved the most about camping on the battlefield or in the trenches, when they’d recharge on tarps instead of a proper berth. Usually the officers would overlook it if you wanted to sleep in a pile with your trine, even if it was supposed to be a sparkling's habit.

The Megatron grunted in his recharge and pressed a little closer against Starscream's back.

There wasn't any way for Starscream to rescue his spoiled trinemates or wreak havoc in the Decepticons’ camp. He couldn't do anything but lie there, sucking gently on the bit between his teeth, and wait for whatever tomorrow would bring. Lie there while the Megatron's engine warmed his wings and the Megatron's hips pinned him to the berth.

Starscream relaxed for fifteen kliks, and then got bored. 

Well, he could still use his time productively. He needed a new plan. The eclipse had been a good start, but the fire had just been a show of temper. He needed to go back to that basic key insight. The power of divinity. The _subtle_ power of divinity... Maybe he could design a virus, something that would make the Megatron believe...

Starscream felt himself trailing in and out of consciousness, but the program grew steadily and beautifully. He hadn't trained for programming, but he'd always loved tinkering. With his own processor, or with his trine’s if they were desperate enough, or with any technology left unattended. He'd bragged once to Thundercracker that he could code in his sleep, and apparently he hadn't been wrong. He was dreaming about a particularly interesting section of the code when the Megatron shook him awake.

"Go away," whined Starscream, and then realized he was rendered doubly incomprehensible by the Megatron's unforgiveable ignorance of Vosian and the gag still in his mouth. 

The Megatron smiled at him, almost fondly, and wiped Starscream's chin clean of the streaks of oral lubricant.

"It's too early," Starscream told him. There wasn't even any sunlight.

The Megatron said something at great length. Starscream glowered at him. The Megatron kept talking, but this time he added some simple mimes. He pointed at himself, then pointed outside the tent. He pointed at Starscream, then pointed at himself again.

"Fine," said Starscream. "Are you going to carry me?"

The Megatron pointed at Starscream's mouth, then mimed biting while making a harsh slashing motion with his hand. He pointed at Starscream’s bound hands and mimed clawing, then made another slashing motion. He kicked at the berth, and Starscream groaned.

"I get it already! Just let me _go_."

The Megatron unbuckled the gag first. Starscream stretched his jaw, feeling it pop, and gave the Megatron a careful, close-lipped smile. The Megatron watched him closely, and Starscream continued, with great effort of will, to refrain from mauling him. Finally, the Megatron unwound the ropes and released Starscream's hands and feet, allowing him to uncurl and stretch his back.

But there was still a section of rope around Starscream's shoulders, chest, and the base of his wings. "Take it all off," said Starscream. "I’m not a pet, I don’t have to be leashed."

The Megatron gave him an amused look and hooked his fingers into the loop of rope hanging between Starscream's wings, yanking Starscream out of the berth and up onto his feet. Starscream wobbled and coughed and glared, and the Megatron handed him a cup of energon and ushered him out of the tent.

It seemed like every mech in the tribe was assembled in the commons. Most were holding makeshift blasters or wicked-looking energy daggers. Starscream spotted Thundercracker standing with Frenzy and an equally small blue mech, and Skywarp cozying up to that white and blue mech he'd been sitting with at the fire. Skywarp waved. Starscream turned his back on him.

The Megatron made a speech. Apparently it was a good one, because the Decepticons cheered. Starscream clapped once or twice. The real—the _loyalist_ Vosian generals had often made speeches, and it was always necessary to clap for them. General Signalflare made an example out of the mechs that didn’t clap enough.

The Megatron called out an order, and about two thirds of the Decepticons transformed. Now the Megatron had an army of ground vehicles to command. Mostly construction or military vehicles, with heavy treads suitable for the slopes of the valleys and hills. Starscream wasn't sure if he could transform with the ropes around his chest, or if he was even repaired enough to try. He looked at the Megatron, who hadn't transformed either, and yelped as the Megatron snagged his harness and pulled him over to one of the oversized green and purple mechs, who'd transformed into a dump truck. The Megatron set Starscream into the bed of the truck, climbing up after him as other root-mode Decepticons found their seats and raised their weapons.

Thundercracker and Skywarp were untransformed as well, Skywarp riding precariously on top of his new best friend and Thundercracker sitting on some kind of tank alongside the primary-colored minibots. At least Starscream was being held captive by the Decepticon leader, rather than a pair of mechs who barely came up to his hip. Thundercracker ought to be ashamed. Instead, Thundercracker caught him looking and just smiled back.

The Megatron gave another order, and the Decepticons rolled out.

\---

Megatron always enjoyed the first rush of battle. The thrumming unity of purpose, coursing through every mech's lines as they surrounded the Autobot camp. The first crack in the silence as blasters rang out. And now, the novel but sweet pressure of General leaning against his frame, optics wide as he gazed fearlessly at the battlefield.

Megatron had expected to recharge poorly last night. He'd expected General would try to shove him off the berth, or that he would spend precious joors picking General up off the floor after failed escape attempts. Instead, Megatron had slept heavy and dreamless, and woken refreshed and ready for the fray, General still secure in his arms.

Megatron tore his gaze away from General's twitching wings and turned his face into the bracing wind and the slight tinge of smoke.

"Are you ready for stage two?" he called to Motormaster.

"I know the battle plan." Motormaster transformed into root mode. "It's just a slagging pincer. Now get over here before we start falling behind."

Megatron huffed and turned back to General. "Stay with Hook and Long Haul." He'd have left General at the camp if there were any mechs staying behind who were strong enough to watch him.

General looked at him for a moment, helm cocked. Then he turned back to the battlefield, and Megatron had to catch his chin in order to regain his attention. "Stay," he said, pointing at Long Haul's dump bed, and waited until General huffed and grimaced his acquiescence.

"Primus," said Motormaster. "Scrapper said you were treating him like a pet, but he didn’t say you were treating him like a conjunx."

“If anyone else was at all capable of commanding this battle,” said Megatron, “I would already be ripping out your spark.”

Motormaster laughed, secure in his position. Forget command—Motormaster was the only Decepticon Megatron could trust to handle him in gun mode. Soundwave would do it, in a crisis, but he didn’t like holding Megatron in his most vulnerable state and always looked uncomfortable when asked. Motormaster, on the other hand, relished it.

Long Haul hit a bump, and General stumbled forward, pressing against Megatron’s chest. Megatron steadied him, squeezing General’s shoulders before gently pushing him back.  
"Be careful," he said, and then flipped himself out of the bed and into his transformation sequence. Motormaster caught him by his grip, and then they were running ahead, into the seething ranks of Decepticons and Autobots. Motormaster screamed his rallying cry, and Megatron felt his spark surge in answer, even though he had no voice in this mode.

This part of battle was always a blur. Motormaster fired Megatron again and again, and Megatron gloried in the ensuing destruction. Their enemies were falling before him, and soon the valley would be filled only with Decepticons and the dead.

Slowly, subtly, the joy of battle began to fade. Megatron found himself cursing silently at Motormaster's lamentable aim as he missed his shot once, and then again. There were more Autobots around them than there should be—one or both sides of the pincer must have failed at cutting off reinforcements from the Autobot camp. Motormaster was fighting defensively, not even trying to break through to the remaining ranks of Decepticons. And there was Optimus fragging Prime, roaring out of the crowd like the walking fatal distraction he always was. Motormaster charged at him, as usual, and was knocked on his aft. Megatron went flying and smashed into an outcropping, shocking his systems. He tried to transform and found himself straining and stuck. His systems screamed for a reboot and Megatron reluctantly allowed it to initiate. He'd be useless for ten kliks, but he was equally useless now. 

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were tussling with Motormaster. Ironhide and Jazz were cutting off the rest of the Decepticon horde, directed flawlessly by Prowl. Optimus Prime was reaching for Megatron, taking advantage of his immobility.

There was a shriek, and Megatron trained his sensors on the noise, looking instinctively for General. Optimus Prime looked up too, hand mere inches from Megatron's grip.

General wasn't where Megatron had left him. Long Haul had transformed into root mode, fighting hand to hand with Ratchet, of all mechs. Megatron scanned for General on the ground, spark whirling uneasily, but there was another shriek, coming from above—

General had climbed to the top of Hook's crane arm, which was shuddering and straining under his weight. The remaining ropes around his shoulders and chest were torn, dangling, and as Megatron watched General reached back and ripped them away.

Megatron's first, painful thought was that General was going to join the Autobots. Leave him for the winning side. And then his processor stuttered and froze as General launched himself from Hook's crane arm and dived straight toward Optimus Prime.

\---

It would have been impressive if Starscream trusted his frame to transform. Or if he'd had working weapons. Or stabilizers. Or even thrusters, Primus, what had he been _thinking_? Starscream just braced for impact and tried to aim for the biggest bot on the field, the one leaning over the Megatron's prone form.

The crash knocked the mech into a sprawl, and Starscream used him as an ungainly cushion, bouncing off his plating and rolling onto the ground. Starscream landed near the Megatron and snatched him up, hoping to the pit that the Megatron would cooperate as he raised him and pulled his trigger.

The Megatron hummed under Starscream's hands, but didn't fire. Maybe Starscream could throw him at someone and run in confusion. Starscream pulled the trigger again and again, desperate.

After the fifth or sixth time the humming changed and the Megatron finally loosed a bolt, knocking a gold mech back into a similar-looking red mech who'd been kicking at the incompetent black mech who had formerly been firing the Megatron.

Starscream realized it would be easier if he learned some of their names. Regretfully, this wasn't the time. He turned, firing in a broad arc at the enemy mechs who were only now realizing he was a threat. Most of them caught only glancing blows, but the Megatron did give a burlier red mech a beautiful dent.

The Decepticon lines had broken, but there were still warriors here and there. "Form around me!" Starscream called, and he saw a few of them respond—to his imperial tone, even if they couldn't understand the words. "The Megatron has fallen, and I have picked him up! I, Storm God General Starscream, am the new Megatron of the Decepticons!"

The big blue mech he'd landed on took advantage of Starscream's distraction to shoot at his thrusters. Starscream yelped in a _completely_ understandable way as he danced backward, putting distance between himself and the enemy.

Those enemies were hanging back now, wary. Starscream counted nearly a dozen of them, all nasty-looking grounders with bizarre blue optics. Big Blue fired at him again, and Starscream ducked behind an outcropping. He returned fire, concentrating on an ugly mech with mock wings welded to his back, but unfortunately the grounder was clever enough to dodge.

The Megatron was running hot enough to fuse some of the delicate wires in Starscream's hands. Starscream didn't loosen his grip, but he did pause in his fire, reluctantly allowing the enemy to take shelter. 

None of the gathered Decepticons seemed inclined to take control. Instead they huddled behind Starscream, recognizing his unimpeachable authority. Starscream just had to figure out how to communicate his brilliant battle plans to his new army. And he had to figure out a brilliant battle plan for getting at the enemy when they were secure behind a different outcropping and none of the Decepticons could fly.

There was a familiarly unnatural noise, and Starscream felt the air displace. Skywarp and Thundercracker leaned over him, encroaching into his personal space as if this were just another battle against one of the fifteen lords of Rodion, and not Starscream’s soon-to-be crowning victory as leader of the Decepticons.

"Hey!" chirped Skywarp. "How'd you get Megatron off Motormaster?"

"Which one's that?" asked Starscream absently.

"He's Breakdown's brother or something," said Skywarp. "He's the one who yells at everyone when there's a battle and Megatron's busy being a gun."

"Big black mech," said Starscream.

"Yeah."

"The one coughing up energon over there?"

Skywarp glanced over. His smile didn't even waver. "Does that mean you're the new battle-yelling-mech?"

"You can just call it a general," said Thundercracker. "It doesn't need a different name just because we're not in Vos."

"I already was a general," sniffed Starscream. "Now I'm claiming the title of Megatron."

Skywarp looked between him and the silent ex-Megatron in Starscream's hands. "But you're Starscream. He's Megatron."

"It's not a _name_ ," snarled Starscream, and would have pursued the matter if the enemy hadn't decided to start firing again. He reluctantly dragged his processor back to urgent matters. "Thundercracker, can you still fly?"

"Not very far," said Thundercracker. "And I couldn't carry you."

"Don't worry about me," said Starscream. "Can your little mechs fight?"

"Rumble and Frenzy? Sure, they love stabbing people."

"You grab them, and drop right into the middle of the enemy."

"Autobots," said Skywarp.

"How do you know—fine, yes, the Autobots. Then—"

Thundercracker wasn't exactly leaping into action. "I'm not really into suicide missions, Starscream."

Starscream flicked his wings back with exasperation. "I just need you to distract them long enough for the rest of us to break cover. The other Decepticons can engage the main force, and then Skywarp can port me over and I'll shoot that ugly monochrome mech with the fake wings."

"I think the big blue guy's their leader," said Thundercracker.

"I already crushed him," said Starscream. "But if it'll make you happy, I'll shoot both of them. Come on, stop wasting time."

Thundercracker flipped him a salute, and picked up Rumble and Frenzy by their scruffbars. Both of them screamed as Thundercracker flung himself into the air. Some of the Decepticons started yelling, and the Autobots stopped shooting—Starscream counted thirty nanokliks before he started gesturing at the Decepticons to attack. They ignored him until he waved the ex-Megatron too. And kicked one of the green and purple mechs in the shin. _Then_ they attacked, more or less in the right direction.

Skywarp slung an arm around Starscream's shoulder. "You know, you're not bad at this planning slag when it involves shooting stuff instead of pretending to be Primus or whatever. I can't believe General Signalflare let a little petty theft get in the way of your career. It was only a few million credits, and it’s not like we even got it out of his big ugly house."

The ex-Megatron had cooled a little, his grip now comfortingly warm instead of searingly hot. Starscream pushed another mech out toward the Autobots, and then curled his finger around the trigger.

"Frag him," he said, and grinned. "I like this army better anyway."

\---

Megatron was still riding the high of the battle. General, with the aid of Skywarp and Thundercracker, had snatched victory from the jaws of Motormaster's failure. Together, they'd taken out Ironhide, Prowl, Sunstreaker... The Autobots would need more than a quartex to recover from the damage, and they'd think twice before encroaching on Decepticon territory again.

Unfortunately, General had then pressed his luck and decided to confront Optimus Prime himself. Which was why he was resting in Megatron's tent, with his firing arm torn off. Hook assured Megatron that he'd be able to replace the limb soon, and in the meantime Hook had covered the frayed socket with a mesh bandage and released General into Megatron's care. 

The medical tent was filled with worse-off casualties, largely from the earlier, more disastrous portion of the battle. Motormaster, for instance, needed an entirely new fuel tank, although Megatron expected that would be the least of Motormaster's worries once he woke up and realized he'd been usurped by a mech who wasn't even a Decepticon. A mech who was currently curled with his helm in Megatron's lap, his ventilations deep and calm.

Soundwave cleared his vocalizer from outside the tent, and Megatron reluctantly looked up to call him in.

"Decryption program complete," said Soundwave. "Hardline installation recommended." He extended his cable and reached for the cover on General's data exchange equipment, but Megatron caught Soundwave's wrist.

"He's in pain," said Megatron. "Don't wake him while he can still rest."

"My time limited," said Soundwave. "Installation requires several joors to complete. Other visitors also require attention."

"Just give me the packet," said Megatron. "I can install it for myself, and then I'll initiate General’s installation when he wakes."

Soundwave gave him a thoughtful look.

"He trusts me," said Megatron, which led to an entirely different (and very dubious) look. Megatron snatched the cable from Soundwave's hand before Soundwave could try any further looks.

\---

Starscream woke to an odd soft clicking noise. His lack of an arm hurt almost exactly as much as he remembered, both physically and emotionally, and he briefly resisted on-lining his optics until the curiosity about what, exactly, he was lying on top of finally got to him.

The Megatron's lap, apparently. Correction, the _ex-_ Megatron's lap.

The ex-Megatron was click click clicking away with a pair of long chrome sticks, weaving together fine bronze thread into what looked very much like a smaller lumpier version of the rugs the Decepticons were so enamored of. Well, the damned things had to come from somewhere.

"I'm the Megatron now," he told the ex-Megatron.

The ex-Megatron set aside his sticks and murmured something as he laid a hand against where Starscream's forehead was exposed under his helm. Starscream tolerated the contact for a moment, savoring the light pressure and the coolness of the ex-Megatron's plating, before turning his head away. The ex-Megatron didn't try to turn him back. Instead he reached gently for Starscream's shoulder, grunting sympathetically when Starscream hissed.

"Yes, yes, it hurts," said Starscream. "Don't touch it!"

The ex-Megatron stopped touching it. Good—he recognized Starscream's earned authority. But then the ex-Megatron's hand wandered, sensuously circling the interface cover below Starscream's cockpit.

"Really," said Starscream. "I display my inherent superiority in combat, and now you want to frag?" He thought about it, then decided it should have been a statement and not a question. "I suppose I can be gracious even in victory. After all, what's a Megatron without a consort?"

The ex-Megatron tapped Starscream's interface cover, looking down at Starscream with a coquettish tentativeness in his optics. Starscream gave him an appropriately masterful and smoldering look and allowed his cover to transform away. The ex-Megatron rubbed his thumb reverently against Starscream's port, then drew out Starscream's cable with clever tugs of his thick fingers. The ex-Megatron opened his own interface cover and offered his cable in turn. Starscream grabbed it with his left—his _only_ hand, hopefully that was a temporary situation—squeezing it firmly and flickering one optic in a sultry wink. If his audials didn't deceive him, he could hear the ex-Megatron's fans clicking into a higher gear.

The ex-Megatron said something. Said a great deal, in fact, ending with a questioning tone and a tilted head. 

"I know what I'm doing," Starscream informed him. He’d interfaced with plenty of mechs, usually when bored between maneuvers, or bored while in the trenches, or panicking the night before a battle because they were sure they were going to die. Doing it in a berth would be a lovely novelty. "I'm going to frag your processor out of your head."

The ex-Megatron gave him a wry smile, and plugged Starscream's cable in. Starscream let him hang for a few seconds before jacking the ex-Megatron in in turn and completing the connection.

The first thing Starscream felt was a rush of data. It was almost as if the ex-Megatron were trying to upload a program, using the interface cables as they were meant to be used instead of what everyone actually did with them. Which reminded Starscream of his own little program, the one he’d created only the previous night. Of course, events had occurred, he was the Megatron now, but he'd done all of the— _most_ of the work, the program was _basically_ done, and it didn't do to let a good program go to waste. He could always do with a little more recognition of his divine abilities.

Starscream pushed his little program packet through, hiding it with a simultaneous upload of miscellaneous junk, then relaxed into the answering surge of the ex-Megatron's data. It was an odd interfacing technique, but fully enjoyable. Powerful, if not skilled. Starscream's processor tingled as his RAM was flooded with unsorted packets. Starscream found himself shifting, his wings scraping against the ex-Megatron's thighs as he tried to physically escape the overstimulation. He didn't unplug, though. It felt _good_ , and rubbing his sensitive wings on the ex-Megatron's warm plating felt even better. 

After only five kliks of the ex-Megatron's ridiculously brute force version of interfacing, Starscream was a writhing, moaning mess. Desperately, vindictively, he pushed his rising charge across the connection, aiming it for the ex-Megatron's pleasure circuits. He felt somewhat gratified when the ex-Megatron stiffened and the flood of data momentarily stuttered before resuming at an even higher volume.

The ex-Megatron said something through gritted teeth. Across the connection, Starscream got the distinct impression that the ex-Megatron was trying to hold him off, wanting this to last. Fine. The ex-Megatron could try to last if he wanted. Starscream was going to overload, as soon as he possibly could, and as many times as he physically could. He squirmed deliberately this time, _stroking_ his wings against the ex-Megatron's thighs, and mirrored the sensation across the connection. The ex-Megatron grunted and put one broad hand on Starscream's cockpit, as if to hold him still. The fool. When Starscream was this keyed up, absolutely everything was an erogenous zone.

Starscream arched minutely against the ex-Megatron's hand and fed that back across the connection as well. Soon the ex-Megatron was groaning, his optics flickering offline. Almost unwillingly, he began to stroke Starscream's cockpit. Between that and the data and the exquisite scraping of Starscream's wings, it was so easy to trip into an overload. The flare of charge wiped Starscream's core processor clean, leaving only the small secondary and tiny tertiary processors to sort the data that the ex-Megatron was still pushing across the connection. Starscream's RAM filled, and then his queue, until he was gasping one breathless continuous shout and overloading again.

The ex-Megatron tipped forward, optics glazing, and, upside-down, pressed his mouth against Starscream's. It was barely a kiss. Just the ex-Megatron's lips sliding over Starscream's own.

Starscream's chin bumped against the ex-Megatron's helm, and he didn't care. There was a third overload building, and this time he was taking the ex-Megatron along for the ride.

The flow of data was slowing to a drip, a tease against Starscream's slowly emptying RAM. Starscream clung to the back of the ex-Megatron's neck with his only hand, demanding more. The ex-Megatron gave one last frantic shove, and Starscream _sobbed_ as his overstimulated frame seized and his processor shook into a final overload. The ex-Megatron made a noise like a cybercat choking on a glitchmouse, and then he was shuddering, his own overload streaming across the connection.

It was the longest shared overload of Starscream's life. He had no idea what his frame was _doing_ , only that when he surfaced his vocalizer was clouding his processor with overuse errors. He sighed, crooning his pleasure in little sparks of static and pinging the ex-Megatron across their still-active connection.

Then Starscream yelped when the ex-Megatron collapsed on top of him, jarring his maimed shoulder. It took _ages_ to shove him off.

Once he was free, Starscream paused to consider the tent flaps. He could go out. Survey his new domain. The Decepticons were probably lazing around, licking their wounds—it would be a perfect time for Starscream to assert his authority.

But his missing arm hurt. And he wasn't sure if his knees would hold him. And the ex-Megatron was right there, sprawled on his back, still connected to Starscream's systems, and looking so comfortable to lie on...

Starscream decided his new kingdom could wait.

\---

Megatron returned to awareness slowly, without any sense of urgency or regret. He was still connected to General, who was lying half on top of him, running one finger around and around where his plug rested in Megatron's port. 

"You're so ugly," murmured General. "No, maybe ugly isn't the word. Brutal. _Brutalist_. Shaped from iron rather than steel."

Megatron stiffened, not sure how to respond, and General placed an open-mouth kiss against Megatron's chest. His bottom lip grazed Megatron's full port and made it spark.

"It feels so transgressive," he said into Megatron's plating. "The slim, delicate seeker conquering the hulking grounder. Don't worry, you'll make a beautifully burly consort." He looked up at Megatron, optics bright with glee. "Oh, I'm going to love being Megatron."

"What on Cybertron are you babbling about?" asked Megatron, and General shrieked and scrambled back, their jacks snapping painfully out of each other's ports.

"You can talk!" yelled General.

Megatron simply looked at him. He'd hoped that General would have something sensible to say, once he was finally able.

"You can talk to _me_ ," hissed General. "How long have you been able to understand Vosian?" 

"Since the translation program finished installing in my processor," said Megatron. “I should have probably waited until it was done before I loaded the program into _your_ processor, but I was impatient. You can understand Tarnish now, by the way. I persevered with the installation despite your attempts to distract me.”

General froze, his expression abruptly flickering from shock to something that looked surprisingly like guilt. 

"You were, I thought you were—" General slumped against the tent frame, his wings poking into the gaps and making the canvas bulge outward.

"Stop that," said Megatron, and beckoned to General. "Come here."

General actually shuffled further away, forcing Megatron to get up and reach for him. General wavered, and Megatron took the opportunity to seize his wrist, pulling him forward until they were standing flush against each other, cockpit to chest.

"Interface protocols are two-way," Megatron reassured him. "If I hadn't enjoyed what you were doing, I would have broken the connection."

General didn't say anything, but his wings twitched momentarily out of their depressed position.

"And I did enjoy it," purred Megatron, stroking down the small of General's back. "Very, very much."

General's wings twitched again, and he scoffed. "Of course you did! How could you resist a mech like me?"

"Mhm." Megatron let his hand drift down to General's flank, petting it and feeling General relax against him. "Maybe we can test that later. At the moment, I'm more interested in your little fantasy."

General's wings jerked upright. Megatron fancied he was beginning to learn what the motions meant.

"Don't be shy," said Megatron. "Something about me being your consort, and you being me?"

"Well," said General, "well. I mean. You did fall in battle, and I did _win_ that battle, so it seemed _obvious_ that I would be the new Megatron."

"But I'm Megatron," said Megatron, feeling that he was missing something.

"Ex-Megatron," said General. "But don't worry, there's a place for you in the new order."

"No, I'm—" Megatron sighed. "You can challenge me for leader if you think the Decepticons will accept you, but you can't take my name. Not even if that's the custom in your village."

"It's not—it's your _name_?" General groaned. "Don't tell Skywarp he was right."

Megatron still felt like they weren't on the same page. "Perhaps we should start over. I am Megatron, leader of the Decepticons."

"I've gathered," said General. "And I'm Starscream, General of the Revolutionary Vosian Army."

Megatron considered this.

"A general is like a war-leader—"

"Yes, it translates," said Megatron. "Starscream."

Starscream nodded.

Megatron sat down on the berth, pulling Starscream with him into his lap. "If you're the general, is the rest of the Revolutionary Army looking for you?"

"Yes," said Starscream. "Yes, absolutely."

Megatron cupped Starscream's chin with one hand, angling Starscream's helm up so he could gaze into Starscream's optics. "How large is this army?"

"Enormous," said Starscream, trying to look away. "Huge."

"More than three?" asked Megatron.

Starscream scowled at him. "Skywarp and Thundercracker _will_ come looking for me. Eventually."

“Vosia,” mused Megatron. “I know that name.”

“It’s called Vos,” muttered Starscream.

“Vos, Vos.” Oh, there was a sparkling’s story about a place called Vos. And Rodion, and Gygax, and the other southern kingdoms, too distant to be anything more than rumor. “Consumed by endless war,” recalled Megatron. “A war so great that they made new mechs to fight it. Sparkless winged demons, built in a workshop rather than properly forged.”

Starscream flinched away, and Megatron reviewed what he’d just said. Oh. Maybe there was something more to it than rumor.

“I’ve got a spark,” said Starscream, tone shading into belligerent.

“I’m sure.” Megatron patted Starscream’s flank. “And a non-revolutionary Vosian army chasing after you, too. Unless they don’t mind deserters?”

“We didn’t _desert_.” Starscream abruptly lost his anger and looked up at Megatron almost coyly. “We broke out of prison. The orn before our scheduled execution. It was very dramatic.”

“Even better.” Megatron fought down his smile. “I’m not exactly prepared to fight off a legendary bloodthirsty army, you know.”

“You won’t have to.” Starscream draped his arms over Megatron’s shoulders. “We lost them in the storm.”

“All of them?” Megatron settled his hands on Starscream’s hips. “You’re asking me to take a big risk, _General_. You burn my tents, try to usurp my position, and there's an army coming to reclaim you."

"They don't know I'm here." Starscream’s talons bit into the back of Megatron’s neck. "It was only one tent. If you just—"

"If I just hide you?" said Megatron archly. "It was a good frag, but I don't know that it was that good."

Starscream's fans whirred audibly before he cut them off. He looked angry again, unless he was aroused. "I won your battle for you."

Megatron gave him a long look, until Starscream's wings were actually trembling with tension. Megatron thought perhaps it was fear, but then he got a good look at Starscream's expression.

Maybe it was both anger _and_ arousal. Oh, Megatron was glad he hadn't let Shockwave dissect this one.

"It's a start." Megatron reclined onto the berth, arms still wrapped around Starscream. "Convince me."

Starscream squirmed, settling with his elbows on the berth and his hips firmly pressed against Megatron’s. "Vos does have a legendary army, and I was one of their finest soldiers. I can give you all the tools of war. I could make you explosives, the likes of which you've never seen—"

"We have blasters," said Megatron. "And Shockwave. And my alt-mode is a gun. Try again."

Starscream bit his lip as he thought. “I have magical communications technology, allowing you to talk with your warriors from miles away.”

That was more interesting. “Shockwave developed something like that. But you needed processor surgery to install the transceivers, and the risk of injury was too great.”

“It’s not that risky,” Starscream assured him. “Only one out of every five mechs get their processors scrambled, and only a couple die.”

“No,” said Megatron.

“You just do it when they’re young,” said Starscream. “That way it doesn’t matter if you lose a few.”

“No.” Starscream might have a spark, but Megatron wasn’t sure about his former superiors. “Try again.”

Starscream looked like he wanted to bite Megatron this time. Again. "Your soldiers are a mess. I _did_ win that battle for you. If I was in charge—"

"No," said Megatron. "I'm in charge."

"If I was in charge of your _battles_ —"

"Better," said Megatron. "You did rescue Motormaster's defeat."

"Motormaster's an idiot," said Starscream.

"Impetuous," suggested Megatron. "In over his head."

"Incompetent," said Starscream.

"All right." Megatron gave into temptation and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of Starscream's helm. "What else?"

"What more do you _want_?" demanded Starscream. "I'm giving you a tactical genius and two passable soldiers, one of whom can teleport, and all of whom can fly. You don't seem to have _anyone_ who can fly, which is _ridiculous_."

"Some of Soundwave's smaller cassettes can fly," said Megatron, "but before you came we didn't know a full-sized mech could manage it. Shockwave is very interested in how you overcame the mass limitations."

Starscream's wings twitched, and his voice lowered to a rasping purr. "Oh, I know what I can give you. Haven't you always wanted to fly?"

"Not really," said Megatron. "The ground has its attractions."

Starscream looked mildly annoyed. "Haven't you always wanted to rain death on the Autobots from above?"

"Not always," said Megatron, and smiled at Starscream's frustration. "But it's piquing my interest."

\---

Eventually Soundwave came to collect Megatron.

"Intelligence gathered," said Soundwave, and Starscream realized with a start that he really could understand the odd Decepticon language of grunts and deep growls. "Visitors deserters of large southern army. Army likely to reclaim—"

"Yes, we've been discussing that." Megatron pushed back the tent flap and strode out onto the beautiful sunlit steppe. "General Starscream and I have come to an agreement." 

Skywarp and Thundercracker leaned past Soundwave, wide-opticked and gaping. Starscream met their surprise with a sneer. How could they have ever doubted him?

"We will protect Starscream and his trine, and in exchange Starscream will serve as our battle commander and provide all of us with—" Megatron trailed off, looking up at the bright, cloudless sky. "Soundwave, how long was I in that tent?"

"Approximately six joors."

"It's not night, is it?"

"Negative." Soundwave looked at Starscream, and Starscream looked back, the picture of wounded innocence.

Megatron didn't seem to notice, still staring upward. "Didn't we already have an eclipse?"

"Affirmative." Soundwave followed Megatron's gaze. "Megatron confused?"

"Yes," said Megatron. "Where are the suns?"

Starscream couldn't hold back the cackle of triumph any longer.

"Screamer," said Thundercracker, "Please don't."

"At last," said Starscream, "my true nature is revealed to you foolish mortals! I am Lord Starscream, god of the storm and the eclipse!"

"I told you they were aliens," said the purple mech, appearing from nowhere with a saw blade the size of Starscream's torso.

"No," said Megatron.

"My lord, the alien has blinded you! You must—"

"Bow before me!" declaimed Starscream.

"I can see you perfectly well, Shockwave," said Megatron. "The suns are the problem. Put that thing away."

“Megatron!” Motormaster stumbled out of the medic’s tent, clutching his side. “I want to claim my rights of grievance. Your pet tried to take my position!”

“He did take your position,” said Megatron. “And you’ll have to get in line behind Frenzy, Scavenger, Mixmaster, and probably two-thirds of the Autobots. Now go away, I’m trying to deal with these missing suns.”

“Bow before me, I said!” Starscream gave Megatron a firm nudge with his foot. “Listen to me, I’m a storm god! Forget everything about Vos, that was a lie to protect your feeble mortal processor.”

" _Screamer_ ," said Thundercracker.

"Lord Megatron, I'm certain that the answer to your difficulties could be found with a little dissection," said the purple mech, raising the saw and taking a step in Starscream’s direction. Starscream fought to keep himself from stepping back.

"Bow before me, I said, and I will spare your pitiful—"

Skywarp tackled the purple mech before he could bring the saw down. Thundercracker tackled _Starscream_ , before Starscream could begin his rant again. Eventually, after Motormaster had been convinced to lie back down, the purple mech had been banished to his tent, and Soundwave spent only two kliks identifying and deleting the program that had taken Starscream an entire night to code, even Starscream had to admit it was for the best.

"I want you to promise me your loyalty," said Megatron, that evening, when Starscream was curled in his arms.

"Yes, yes," said Starscream. Thundercracker and Skywarp had been given their own tent. Unimaginable luxury. Skywarp was already cluttering it up with turbofox pelts. Starscream was happy to be recharging with Megatron instead.

"I want you to promise me your honor," said Megatron.

"Is that another word for monogamy?" asked Starscream. “I told you I’m not your pet.” He traced his new talons over Megatron's chest. His replacement arm was much better work than he'd ever had in Vos. He liked Hook better than the overworked, undertrained army medics—especially now that he could tell Hook what his schematics were.

"I want—This is important, Starscream, are you listening to me?" Megatron caught Starscream's hand. "I want you to stop fragging around with the suns to try to impress me."

"Ugh, _fine_." Starscream twined his fingers with Megatron's and pulled him a little closer. "As long as you promise to worship me."

Starscream kissed Megatron gently, then hungrily, both of his hands wrapping around Megatron's helm and holding him in place. Starscream's fans whined, and he finally had to break away for air.

Megatron gasped for breath, looking stunned. "I'm an atheist."

"I don't _care_ ," said Starscream, and pulled him in again.

\---

Jazz watched through his binoculars as the Decepticons dropped another load of bombs onto the abandoned Autobot camp. What a difference a couple quartex made, huh? The Decepticons hadn't even waited for the Autobots to return to Ark valley this time—they'd come storming out to the Iaconian hills, ready to throw their weight around and expand their territory. And it was working, too.

The Autobots had been lucky that Hound had smelled the jet fuel on the wind and given them enough time to evacuate. But Jazz wasn't sure what to do now, and their best tactician was silent and rapidly overheating.

"All right there, Prowl?" asked Jazz.

"Fine," said Prowl, in a very unfine voice. "I just need to integrate the new data."

"Well, they had a couple fliers last time," said Jazz. "Like the one who dropped Frenzy on us. Maybe flying's contagious."

Prowl groaned, putting his hands over his undoubtedly aching helm. "What are they doing now?"

Jazz searched through the skies. "Looks like gloating. The weird-looking Praxian's talking to Megatron."

"He's not a Praxian," said Prowl.

"Shame," said Jazz. "Maybe then you could fly."

"He doesn't look anything like a Praxian," mumbled Prowl. "And door wings serve an important purpose."

"Yeah, they're cute," said Jazz, and got smacked with one _extremely useful_ door wing. "Ow! I'm just saying. Wait, what the frag?"

"What?"

"The definitely-not-a-Praxian's all over Megatron." Jazz followed the movement as Megatron and his new best friend drifted back and forth across the sky. "I think he's—yeah. Wow."

"What?"

"They're doing it."

" _What_?"

"They're doing it. Cabling on the battlefield. Battlesky. Whatever."

Prowl reached for the binoculars and Jazz fended him off with one hand.

"I need to see," said Prowl.

"The pit you do," said Jazz. "I'm in charge of reconnoitering."

"It could give me a better tactical understanding of—"

"They're my binoculars," said Jazz. "Now hush, I'm trying to concentrate."

Megatron was teasing at the winged mech's port, almost but not quite connecting his jack while the winged mech clawed at his arm and tried to force the connection to complete. Jazz tried to refocus his binoculars, and yelped and nearly dropped the binoculars as Prowl pinched a wire in his hip. Prowl took the binoculars from Jazz's suddenly weak grip, and then fended off Jazz's attempts to retrieve them.

"I was watching first!" whined Jazz.

"I need to integrate all available data," said Prowl. "I'll take a video capture for you, if it matters that much."

Then Prowl was quiet for several kliks. Jazz could practically see steam rising from Prowl’s helm, and an indescribable expression flitted across his face. At first Jazz thought it might be horror, but the expression came and went again, and Jazz could almost—

He leaned against Prowl's side, slipping his fingers into Prowl's hip to gently stroke the wires there.

"What are you doing?" ground out Prowl.

"Treating you much nicer than you've treated me," said Jazz. "Should I stop?"

Prowl didn't say anything, but he angled his leg to open up the joint a little more. Jazz rewarded Prowl by curling his fingers into a thick knot of wire.

"Come up with any plans?" asked Jazz.

"No," said Prowl. "But maybe, if we're lucky, they'll scramble their own processors and run into a tree."

And you know what? They did. Actually drifted too low while overloading and got tangled right up in those branches. Of course, Jazz was a little too _busy_ to take advantage of it at the time, but at least he wasn't stuck in a tree. Yet another good reason to keep your fragging on the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, please consider sharing it [on tumblr](http://neveralarch.tumblr.com/post/179488318144/total-eclipse-neveralarch-the-transformers) (or wherever you like to do recs). Thanks!


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